


RE意識 (au contrant)

by aamestris



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Halloween, Holidays, Homin - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aamestris/pseuds/aamestris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>someone reminds him of his used-to-be bestfriend’s brother. the last thing changmin expects after that is for it to actually be him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **something light for spirits day.** this story is unbeta'd and consists of some intermediate level werewolf and vampire themes. chapter warning: minor violence, attempted assault, and language.

 

 

 

“you’re coming.”

changmin let his eyes drift from his book in a brief glance to his crotch. dark wash jeans, straightleg, and completely dry. a myriad of possible things to say flicker across his mind. “no,” he says flatly, settling, eyes back to his book. “no, i don’t think i am.”

“you’re so full of it,” changmin can practically hear the eye roll in his closest friend’s tone. he resists the urge to say  _why yes i am_ and instead allows for a self-indulgent smile as victoria goes on somewhere behind him, probably about his lack of social life and some other ‘fault in his personality’ that ‘refuses to make him want to participate in anything, ever.’

“listen,” victoria sighs as she stops tinkering with her outfit—if you can call it that, the black, thin slither of cloth is  _barely_  a dress—taking the book from his hands and draping herself dramatically over the back of his perch, completely ignoring his wide eyed glare. she’s been trying to coerce him for weeks, she’s nothing if not persistent. “you haven’t left your apartment for anything but class and food since minho and kyuhyun moved away—two  _years_  ago.  _we_  haven’t gone out together in months. it’s just one party, changmin. i swear it won’t kill you.”

changmin ignores the rant for the guilt trip that it isn’t, no longer bothered by his friend’s casual mentions of the two of three people he possibly misses more than his own father. victoria is a person of saying the first crumple of words that string themselves together in her head, and he’d come to terms with that a long time ago, no matter that what she said sometimes struck chords.

“i don’t do halloween,” changmin says simply, running his tongue over his canines absently and reaching for his book. he resists looking into victoria’s eyes and laying out a construct of concise  _no_ ’s. “really. and you know how i feel about the sun.”

“halloween is about being anyone you want, changmin, and it’s evening!”

“and dressing up,”

“you don’t  _have_  to have a costume.”

“and insane crowds of people.”

“chang _min_.” victoria is standing in front of him with a hand on her hip now, a passing flicker of hurt on her face, mouth notching in the way he has also long come to recognize and learned to be wary of. changmin leans back, folding his arms as he gives a resolved grunt.

“excellent,” victoria beams, just shy his own height in her heels as she pulls him up from the couch. “the party starts in an hour, hurry up and get dressed.”

changmin raises a brow, “i am dressed,” rolls his eyes when victoria gives a pointed glare at his old hoodie. he marches to his room. “fine, but i’m keeping the jeans.”

he already knows he doesn’t exactly have college halloween party worthy things to wear but he stares into his closet anyway, half heartedly glancing at the clothes he has in mild wonder—who can he be, if he can be anyone? the question had been posturing him, wracking around his skull from the moment victoria had demanded he go to a halloween party. victoria had told him that he could be anyone he wanted, anything, regardless how bizarre or alluring or terrifying. that end bit had amused him when she’d said it, because little did she know. only one fourth vampire and he still managed to—accidentally—be all of those things.

the thing about being someone else is that he  _likes_ being himself. pretending to be someone or something else was… disagreeable, after years of trudging through identity issues concerning himself and his royal family bloodline, his misconstrued role as the apparent spitting image and reincarnation of his great great great great great  _great_ grandmother and his place in the vampire society, along with its throne. changmin is mostly human, thanks to his mother being a halfling and his father not being supernatural at all, but vampire blood is known to be hard to dilute. the vaugely irritating tingling sensation when he steps into sunlight, lengthy canines, heightened senses, abilities, and the murky blue eyes that look back at him in the mirror was hard proof of that. yet, victoria had told him that the point was to be something else when, really, halloween was the more than perfect time to truly be himself.

but, naturally, it also seemed like an excuse for his friend to don as little clothing as possible. victoria had brought entire bags to changmin’s apartment, modeled costume after costume until deciding on ears and a slip of a cat suit that made even changmin hum in appreciation. and from victoria’s declaration, skimpiness was quite the norm for _everyone_.

the norm was definitely not for changmin, it never had been no matter how much he strived— _strives_ —for it. at (still) twenty four he’d moved from his family’s countryside estate to travel the world, then back to his home’s city to carry on and continue his schooling—probably the only normal constant he can count. it was here, four years ago at college in which he’d met victoria, along with kyuhyun and minho, as they were. changmin is smart, but his aforementioned identity and societal issues hadn’t exactly allowed him to breeze through highschool back then. after pushing through hell and high waters to even get into college without…  _otherworldly persuasion_ , he hadn’t really participated in the usual, expected college antics: concert hopping, partying, dating, drugs. and definitely not damn halloween. he enjoys a good glass of wine every now and then, but he’d done enough of those other things in the years before he left home.

besides, it hadn’t even occurred to him that people his age dressed up anymore. not that he was still aging. not really, anyway.

“if i can be anyone,” changmin muses to himself, hand braced on the door of his closet as he peers in. “i suppose i’d like to be my opposite, but you won’t catch me alive dressed like a werewolf.”

changmin snatches the nearest shirt off of its hanger, a white button up with billowing sleeves, a gift from victoria on his birthday earlier in the year. he ditches his hoodie and the t-shirt underneath, tosses them into the hamper in the corner of his closet and then slips into the white shirt, buttons it up and grabs for the lace up boots—also an attempt from victoria to further spice up his wardrobe—and fitting into them.

victoria makes a delighted sound when she sees him, flocks over coos. “i told you those boots would be handy some day!” she says, running a hair through his hair, to his trepidation. “you look—”

“ridiculous, probably,”

“ _hot_.” she ushers him into the bathroom to look in the mirror. her heels click on the tiles. “like in a vampire kind of way, don’t you think?”

ironically. wry amusement curdles up changmin’s chest, unbidden as he blinks slowly at her through the mirror—another tell tale of his humanity, he can  _see_  himself—but victoria ignores him in favor for reaching around and popping the top three buttons on his shirt. “there,” she announces happily, smoothing her hands down his arms. “you don’t even need contacts,” she jokes. “perfect.”

changmin makes a face. “not sure about the buttons, vic. remember last time? people will be trying to hit on me—”

“that’s the point,” victoria laughs. “that way you’ll have something to do!”

“what? what about you, the one who’s demanding me to tag along?” changmin tucks his phone into his back pocket and they head through his apartment, switching lights off as they go. “why can’t you just pretend to be my date.”

“no,” victoria says firmly. “i fully intend to be going home with some stranger tonight. after all, it’s not something i’d usually do, so it fits.”

changmin is pretty sure that’s not the point of halloween, but he doesn’t bother mentioning that as they take the elevator down. victoria’s car is a glued together pile of junk, but it runs, and she’s the only one between them with a license, much less a car. changmin gets in, reaching down to adjust the laces on his shoes.

“still,” victoria says, starting the car and pulling out of the garage park. “i wish you dressed a little more—”

“ridiculous?”

“extravagant.” victoria deadpanned. “seriously, you have the body for it.”

“this is an exception,” changmin intones with a fake bout of narcissism. “you said i can be anything i want. i’m just me with the clothes you bought.”

“so, what, you’re an actual vampire?”

changmin pauses in a moment of contemplation, then neither confirms nor denies, just gives a slow roll of his shoulder in a half shrug and repeats himself. “you know how i feel about the sun.”

“full of it,” victoria chuckles, the beginning of a genuine joyful smile forming for the first time changmin has seen her today. the gauntlet thrown out to cast, they start bickering in earnest, mercilessly picking at each other.

when they pull up to the apartment building the party’s being hosted at, changmin looks up in only intermediate awe. he was used to luxury before he left for the city on his own, but this was something else, a different genre of luxury he issn’t familiar with; his family comes from old money. this apartment building screams  _new_  at him. the building is for the modern and rich, the sleek, glass and steel design nothing at all like the vintage woods and bricks he was accustomed to back home, not to even mention his own apartment.

“the party is here? have we driven by before?”

“nah,” victoria says. “but hyunwoo’s throwing it. his parents got him a place here when he turned eighteen or something.”

“must be nice to be rich,” changmin mutters with a private smile.

“hyunwoo’s a complete asshole but he’s got a live dj and an open bar, so, y’know. everyone off campus is showing up.”

“still. i feel like i know this building.”

the elevator ride up takes what seems like forever. when they get out, they’re surprised that there’s only one door on the entire floor. music thumps, almost shakes the door, and changmin can smell the faint, gritty scent of cigarettes and alcohol from where he stands. he winces for his sensitive ears and nose in advance.

“you ready?” victoria asks, clicking a heel.

changmin plasters on a smile, decides he’ll at least try to enjoy himself once he gets a drink in his hand. “ladies first,” he grins. no one answers when victoria knocks on the door, but it swings right open when she tries for the knob, revealing an enormous condo, one that could easily take up two floors. changmin’s awe notches up a little.

everywhere changmin looks there are people in costumes, talking, drinking. ghosts, maids, punks, ghouls, stereotypical vampires and ‘your skirt’s too short to be a’ disney princesses. roaring twenties gangsters lounge with plastic cups while another group covered in togas and ancient roman armor drink from more decorated cups.

“c’mon,” victoria shouts over the music. “let’s get a drink and mingle around.”

“i thought you were driving us home?” changmin protests, trying to keep up with her though the throbbing crowd.

“we’ll be here for hours! one drink won’t cause any harm by then.” victoria gives changmin’s shoulder a gentle shove. “this is the first party you’ve graced your presence with all year! relax! meet people!”

changmin should have known that  _relax_  and  _meet people_  meant abandon ship. victoria pulls away and lets out a high pitched squeal the moment some other person calls her name, and she vanishes into the throng of people. changmin holds back a frustrated snarl and makes his way to the bar, takes a stool for himself and waits for the bartender to notice him. changmin’s almost sure that the bartender is a wild cat of some sort, but the real colors and patterns of his costume are lost in the flashing lights emitting from above, even for his eyes.

“well? what’ll it be?” the bartender asks impatiently.

“surprise me,” changmin says over the music. the guy nods, turns and pulls bottles changmin doesn’t care to squint at—he probably could’ve smelled the contents from a mile away with how strong it was.

“never seen you here before,” a voice says from next to him. “nice costume, by the way. your fangs are wicked!”

changmin turns his head to see a shorter, stocky guy in a pin stripped suit and aviators peering at him. changmin’s first thought is  _prick_ , because who wears shades inside, but it’s halloween, so:

“i’ve never been here before,” he admits. “thanks.”

“so you’re what,” the guys says, “a vampire right?”

changmin doesn’t answer right away, thinks about the day his aging stopped and then says, “an… old one, yeah. sure.”

“contacts and everything! i dig it,” a laugh, one that almost raises changmin’s hackles. he quickly tosses it up to the slur in the other man’s voice, mumbles another thanks.

“and you are?”

“secret agent.”

changmin wonders if he should reward points for originality or deduct some for lack of trying. not that he could really say much when his own pseudo costume was nothing but his actual clothes.

“so what’s your major?”

“classic literature,”

“a literature major, huh?”

“yeah. you?”

changmin regrets letting the returned question fall from his mouth when he realizes it’s a trap. the guy had only asked so he could puff his chest out, talk about his own major, and then delve into an overly lengthy explanation with an aura that oozes self importance. changmin extracts more knowledge than he cares to have about him; major, intended career, his creepy obsession with rookie girl groups and, naturally, the overwhelming amount of self love.

he hasn’t really touched his drink, which in hindsight would have made listening to some random go on about themselves a million times easier. after nearly sixteen minutes and forty eight seconds—changmin counted—he tries to figure out how to remove himself, almost considers a drastic measure or two. he deems himself already sick from the genuine narcissism only made worse by how much the guy imbibes.

changmin’s just about to flee, about to nod the guy off and probably never look back when the dance floor shifts and a group of people push into the other man, who stumbles forward in a flail to catch himself, shouting something changmin doesn’t listen for or hear. but changmin’s sharp shout of indignation as the guy’s drink, something foul smelling and colorful, spills down the front of his white shirt, is definitely heard, even earns a few head turns.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” the flashing lights don’t help, but changmin’s positive the drink is purple.

holding in another affronted sound changmin excuses himself, not caring if the guy hears him. he looks around, spots stairs and makes his way up and around a string of other students in costumes, cursing under his breath as the smell of the alcohol spilled down his clothes wafts up to his nose relentlessly. he eyes one of the doors on the landing and hopes he’s got enough luck left for it to be a bathroom.

he opens the door, almost slams it shut behind before something catches his attention. it’s the scent first, sweat and musk, then the echoing sound of skin slapping, and changmin turns his head to see victoria’s face, mouth parted and a stranger between her legs, too busy to notice changmin staring at her in mortification.

changmin promptly turns on his heel and leaves, slams the door behind him before striding for another. “thank fuck,” he sighs when it’s a bathroom. with just a glance in the fluorescent lighting he can tell that the purple stain will never come out. it runs from his collar to the fashionably frayed end in a slash, some of it sticky on his chest. a pulse of hot, sudden anger shoots down his body, and he feels his canines lengthen in reaction. changmin braces himself against the sink, knuckles almost white as he tries not to let the feeling consume him so fully.

“that’s what i get for wearing white,” he tilts his head back and mutters to himself, aiming his tone for light and conversational instead of the growl that’s waiting in the back of his throat. looking back at the mirror, he flicks on the faucet and tries dabbing at the horrid splash of purple.

the door behind him opens, and he mutters that he’ll probably be just another moment when he catches the gaze of the secret agent guy in the mirror.

“hey there,” the guy slurs.

“be out in a minute,” changmin goes back to his shirt.

“unnecessary,” secret agent waves a hand, cajoling, tone coming out thick and too syrupy by more than half. it makes changmin’s hackles raise again, his body still with an eerie absoluteness. despite the fact that more than half a century has passed by, he recognizes the tone for what it is, remembers his terrified seventeen year old self when he first heard it.

“never done it in the bathroom before.”

“done what,” changmin says slowly, quietly, hands still over his shirt and eyes zeroed in on the mirror.

“aw, you know, pretty boy. it’ll be fun, yeah?” he tells changmin, stepping closer.

“that’s  _really_  not going to happen.” changmin tells him, sliding away toward the far wall and in the direction of the door. he doesn’t enjoy altercations. especially these. gods know he’s had enough of these to last his life span.

“don’t play hard to get,” secret agent, voice suddenly sounding clearer. he reaches out towards changmin’s hands. “you’ve been flirting around with me all night.”

changmin slips out of the door with precision. his thoughts hardly even roam to victoria as he breezes down the stairs and steps into the crowd, making for the door. curses are shouted him as he weaves through without remorse, not caring at how rough his movements are becoming. he struggles to reach the door as the room suddenly feels too small, cigarette smoke hanging in the air with the musky stench of sweat. he breathes through his mouth, coughs on even that, breath hitching in wet gasps that do nothing to help him with a sudden bout of dizziness before he snaps his mouth shut and holds his breath. he flings the door shut harder than he should when he finally reaches it.

“bus,” he mutters to himself, sure that victoria will understand when she gets mad at him about leaving later. he strides towards the elevator and tries to ignore the smell of himself, more than happy to just be taking the lift down alone. the doors are halfway closed when the condo door swings open and secret agent rushes to slide inside. the guy gives a grin changmin wants to punch off and presses the button for closing the elevator doors.

“always wanted to fuck in an elevator, too.” secret agent proclaims, swooping forward. changmin’s eyes narrow as he steps out of the way with a grace secret agent can’t see, and the guy bangs his head against the steel wall, laughs.

“i’m serious, stop playing around.” he laughs more, turning. changmin lets his lip curl over his teeth, feels his fists curl.

“i do not want to have sex with you.” he says plainly, almost low.

“come now, you’ve been giving me _the eyes_ since we met.”

“did i stutter?”

“tough boy, pretty boy, i like it,” the guy launches for changmin, mouth poised for a kiss that he misses entirely, leaving a gross trail of sordid saliva when changmin ducks under they guy’s arms. “hey now—”

changmin filters his fingers through the guy’s hair, tugs hard and slams down. hid face meets the elevator wall rail with a definitive  _crunch_ , and changmin watches him crumple to the floor, howl in pain as blood splatters from his nose

“you fucker!” he whirls, one hand cupping his face and the other swinging out wildly. changmin catches the guy’s hand in it’s momentum, punches it flat agaomst the elevator wall, not caring to hear the pained cries.

“when someone says no,  _it means_   _no_.” he snarls, done with the entire ordeal as the elevator doors finally ding open. he backs away, eyes on the secret agent until he’s a decent stride away from him.

“y’fucking fuck—” the guy’s shout is stopped short as the elevator doors close. changmin takes a deep breath of air like he’s been underwater for a year, doesn’t relax; someone’s behind him.

he catches a glimpse of suit and bewildered brown eyes as he turns, makes his way towards the exit.

“might want to take the stairs.” he offers grimly.

a scent tickles his nose when he passes by, almost familiar in the way it curls upwards in a soothing spice, nearly memory inducing. changmin doesn’t stop dwell on it. he doesn’t quite care. he just wants to go home.

the sense of freedom washes over changmin in a cool wave when he steps into the autumn air. he notes the lack of people in the streets and curses under his breath. “it’s too late for a bus.” he groans, agitated.

his anger flares and dies with the adrenaline rush of not just setting that guy straight, but from holding back. he gives himself a mental pat on the shoulder because only part human he may be, but strong is the vampiric blood in him. he thinks of the guy’s broken nose and probably sprained hand and scoffs. that asshole is lucky he isn’t _hungry_. if anything, he was gentle.

with a sinking feeling and the purple stain of alcohol drying sticky to his bare chest underneath, he reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

of course it’s gone.

“fucks sake,” changmin allows himself another bout of irritation as he raises his eyes to the murky black city sky. “is this punishment?” he growls at it. “really?”

“would you like a ride?” a voice asks from behind him. changmin tenses; he’s had enough of voices sneaking up on him for one night. or two. or forever.

oh. that scent again.

sighing on the inside, changmin turns slowly to look at the owner of the voice, recognizes the suit from the elevator hall and forces himself not to cringe before looking the man in the face.

familiarity slams through him as he takes in the dark brown eyes and black hair, that mouth. it hits him hard in the lungs and down his spine. it tugs at his memory, something waiting to come to the tip of his tongue and be plucked right off. he can’t place it.

“listen,” he starts, trying not to let wonder color his tone, “i just got assaulted in an elevator, so don’t take it personally if i tell you to piss off. testing my patience while riding around with a stranger is probably not the finest idea at the time.” changmin tells him, readying himself for a long walk home.

“it would be more difficult to suck a squealing newborn dry,” the man remarks in a flat tone.

“probably,” changmin says it without thinking. he takes half a step before the words run through his head and he’s tensing up again. “ _what?_ ”

the man says nothing, just stares back, and for a second changmin wonders if he produced the words in his own mind with some stupid leftover adrenaline fueled delirium.

“your eyes.” the man finally says.

changmin’s gaze flickers before narrowing. he slides one booted foot back, poised as a sliver of fear runs through him. “do you—?”

“it’s just an observation.” he gives a small smile. “that and your overly obvious choice in attire for the night, but no supernatural i’ve ever met has eyes quite like yours. jihye always did mention that you never bothered with concealment spells.”

changmin stops. his already barely there heartbeat faults to a brutal halt at that name, a name he hasn’t heard in decades, didn’t think he’d hear in more decades to come.

 _jihye_.

the familiarity suddenly makes more sense than anything. changmin’s memories spill like a floodgate, and he lets out an almost shuddery breath.

“yunho.”

“in the flesh,” he replies jokingly.

“still think everything is funny, i see,” changmin snaps, tension leaving his body anyway, yet still too frustrated to care about insulting someone who just offered to help him.

“you still have an easy temper. and you _reek_. are you drunk?”

“like hell,” changmin resists baring his teeth. “that prick in the elevator spilled his drink all over me before deciding that i was easy.”

“there’s blood on you,” he says to changmin, who huffs.

“so? not like you were ever bothered by it before.”

changmin stays half poised as yunho lets out a minute hum before taking his gaze up changmin’s form and nodding. “come with me,” he says, commands, leaving no room for argument and raising changmin’s hackles for the second time.

changmin looks down the street at the empty bus stop and then to yunho’s retreating back. there’s nothing more he wants to do than go home and lock himself inside, but this—this surprise, this…  _whatever_  one calls it—changmin wouldn’t let this slip through his hands for the very world.

not if it means what he thinks—

he tells himself not to expect anything and not be wary, not to think too heavily on the events of their shared past. after all, if yunho was going to kill him, he would have done it already, and changmin would have been none the wiser. but, changmin can’t imagine yunho trying to kill him after offering him a ride.

deeming the night completely unable to possibly get any stranger, changmin does as he is told.

he follows.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

yunho leads him back to the elevator where he pushes the button for up, and when it finally arrives it’s loaded with a gaggle of drunken, costumed, college students. changmin notices the vague look of disdain on yunho’s face as the students pour out of the elevator, singing some song, off key and at the top of their lungs.

“let me guess,” yunho says as he steps inside. changmin notes the blood still splattered on the floor, now smeared in some places, and allows a frown. “i take it that hyunwoo’s throwing another party.”

“i take it you don’t like him?”

“he is… an annoyance,” yunho says, pushing the button for the top floor.

“i can understand.”

“what of the man seeking your attention in the elevator?”

“hell if i know,” changmin says through gritted teeth. “what i do know is that he loves himself more than narcissus.” changmin watches the floor number rise higher, then, “…so?”

yunho says nothing.

“what have you been doing for the last sixty-something years?”

“this and that,” yunho replies, a small smile tugging his mouth. “yourself?” he looks at changmin, and changmin fights an intense wave of nostalgia when he looks into yunho’s eyes.

“i moved to the city four years ago,” changmin says vaguely. “i’m currently working on a degree in classic literature.”

“which culture?”

“japan’s.”

“of course,” the way he says it reminds him that yunho  _knows_ him. “it’s where you father is from, after all.”

the doors ding open and changmin follows yunho out to, now unsurprisingly, a single door only a few strides away. pausing, changmin is hit with a concerning amount of interest, wondering how yunho lives, if he has family or if he lives alone. would—

“ever curious,” yunho mumbles, activating the card key and gesturing for changmin to step inside. changmin’s interest turns into a streak of intimidation and he takes a hesitant step over the threshold, looking around the apartment.

not apartment. condo. house in the sky. bigger than what he’d seen of hyunwoo’s, its walls are made entirely of glass and steel, the view of the light lit city below as breathtaking as the night sky above.

“this is—” changmin breathes, voice falling into a whisper. he walks over to the glass, completely oblivious to yunho’s following stare. “you can actually see the stars here.”

“i designed it that way,” yunho tells him.

changmin’s brows shoot behind his hair. “you designed this?”

“it’s what i do now. twenty years ago i was a lawyer in south america. twenty years before that… well, you were there for that, but the eighty-four years before _that_? it’s a secret. different occupations help pass the time.” yunho trails off, and changmin gives a nod in understanding. of course yunho had done many things, relocated after set periods of time just as he had on his own travels. after all, werewolves stop aging too, and changmin himself never talks about the years before he became frozen at twenty four forever. not that yunho would need that information. as he said, he was there for that.

changmin feels more off balance than he did when yunho had declared himself to him outside, and he tries to figure out what changed. his gaze flicks to the city below and back.

everything, he decides. even yunho’s appearance has changed, the near opposite of what changmin remembers.

“are you still you?”

yunho blinks at him. “i don’t understand.”

“your eyes,” changmin tries again, repeating yunho’s own words. “your birth marks. or have you dyed your hair and—”

yunho stops him when he removes a ring from his finger. his whole image flickers, and changmin remembers the mention of his own dislike for concealment spells. yunho’s hair turns copper, eyes back to the bright golden amber changmin remembers, naturally dark lined, glowing, and, there, just peeking from his suit collar changmin can make out the beginnings of his markings, ones that he recalls wind all the way down. yunho’s movement allows changmin to see his wrists, and there he spots the birthmarks of identical northern stars.

“still you,” changmin says quietly, feeling slightly more at ease with the change. yunho catches his eye, and he ignores the ache in his chest at the familiar intensity in the gaze. he looks just like her.

“come with me,” yunho gestures for him to follow. changmin takes the chance to marvel in the strangeness of the situation, and then his surroundings as he’s led up a flight of spiraling stairs that meet with an alcove of a landing. yunho stops at the first door.

“guest bathroom,” he clarifies at changmin’s silent question. “i’ll find you a change of clothes.”

stopping himself from arguing, changmin nods, closes the door gently behind him.

 _expensive_  is the word that comes to mind when he takes in the bathroom features. it’s as elaborate as the rest of the house, so unlike what he was used to by now. a towel rack rests beside a towel warmer, standing shower and a bathtub so deep changmin gives into a sense of utter indulgence and switches it on before turning to the shower.

he sheds his shirt first, frowning at the sticky mess it left but folding it carefully despite the stain. albeit the gross smell it will probably have forever now, he hopes he’ll be able to bleach the purple eyesore out; it was a gift, after all. he knelt, carefully unlaced his boots before toeing off his socks and sliding out of his jeans, then boxers, settling them into a pile.

changmin makes a throaty noise of appreciation when he opens the misty glass shower doors; there are shower heads protruding from corners of each marble wall, four on the ceiling to rain straight down, two more, waist high. there’s an array of soaps and shampoos, all lined up neat on a small shelf built into an alcove in the wall.

he didn’t realize he had a dream shower, but he decides this is definitely it.

he turns a knob experimentally and warm water flows from the ceiling. the second knob activates the shower heads in the corners, water sprouting from different angles to meet in the middle. he ignores the last knob, steps all the way and immediately feels his body relax.

“i wonder if he designed this too,” he murmurs, voice lilted in something that sounds like  _pleased_. he picks a random bottle of shampoo and pops it open. the scent of it is nonexistant and he hums in understanding approval, pouring some into his palm and settling the bottle back before lathering his hair.

steam rises, clouds the shower, and changmin loses himself in the impromptu pampering. dare he say he feels like royalty as he cleans, exuviating the strong, foul smell of alcohol and the lingering feeling from the would be elevator assault.

changmin feels more like himself again when he finally turns the knobs off. a thick blanket of steam wisps, billows out around him when he opens the shower doors, reaching blindly for a towel. he’s surprised when he finds it and it’s warm to the touch, definitely soft enough to sleep in. he enjoys the feel of it on his skin as he takes care to dry himself slow and in circles before moving to his hair. he catches sight of the length of it in one of the wall mirrors; the black locks curl in slight around his jaw, thick even when wet. he’ll have to trim it soon.

he finds a bottle of lotion and makes quick work of it. he pauses when he finishes, wonders if there’s perhaps a robe somewhere for him to use or if he’ll have to peek around the door to ask. he’s more than positive yunho would’ve heard his shower end and’ll have clothes for him, but he halts when he spots them on the counter, a pair of emerald green silk pajama pants and a clean white tshirt. changmin wonders when yunho came in, pulls the pants on and watches them slip from his hips, a fraction too big for him. he notes that the cuffed ends stop just short of his ankles with amusement. he’s taller than yunho.

the t-shirt follows, soft to the touch, comfortably too big for him, and he tucks part of the hem into the pajama pants so he doesn’t look completely swathed with it falling at mid thigh.

he rests his towel over the bar and turns off the towel heater before stepping out of the bathroom. it’s noticeably cooler and his skin tingles in a way he actually doesn’t mind.

nose coming to the air for a small sniff, he deducts that he won’t be able to find yunho by smell—his savory, earthy scent is everywhere. instead he stills, tries to feel him out but gets nothing but the silent hum of the house. finally he takes a tentative step toward the waist high wall lining the upper landing and stairs, furrows his brows, tilts his jaw just so, listens.

there’s amusement in yunho’s voice when he calls, “i’m down stairs,” as if he could hear changmin’s own mind.

changmin reminds himself that unlike his sibling, yunho is a full, royal blooded werewolf; he can smell emotion, taste the air, and more than likely hear miles out into the city, even from their height. changmin walks down the stairs, takes in the expanse of the first floor of the home in the lights that have been switched on before movement catches in the corner of his eye and he turns to it, realizing that yunho is in the kitchen.

again he marvels at the open space as he makes his way over. there are no walls, merely furniture and counters to mark the areas off.

“would you like a glass of wine?” yunho offers, looking comfortable in his own silver pajamas and pouring a glass.

“sure,” changmin gives a slow shrug, not wanting to refuse. “yes, please.”

yunho fills a matching glass next to his own and hands it to him. the deep, rich red color reminded him of yunho’s more visible markings in the low light.

“a minute to midnight,” yunho says from behind his glass.

“to halloween,” changmin laughs softly, raising his glass, nodding when yunho raises his own in salute before taking another drink. changmin finds himself following again as yunho steps forward and leads him into the living room. plush couches and chairs and artfully placed cushions form a cozy, open barricade. changmin took a seat closest to the windows, glancing the city below and crossing his legs.

silence rang, almost comfortable. “thank you,” changmin murmurs after another moment. he drags his gaze from the living city and looks yunho in the eye and means it. “you didn’t have to.”

yunho holds his stare, brows furrowed thoughtfully. “no,” he finally says, swirling the wine in his glass, dropping his eyes to it. “believe it or not, despite your… separation, for all of these years, you are still pack, and pack takes care of its own.”

changmin feels his mouth part ridiculously, brows fly behind his still damp hair. “i—i  _am_?”

“despite your heritage, you ran with the wolves,” yunho smiles slow, eyes sharp. “you ran with  _jihye_ , and therefore you ran with me, as i am the head of house, the patriarch, if you will.”

“jihye,” changmin says her name carefully, amazed at the way it still fits on his tongue. “she—”

“lives in the states. she visits now and then but she’s away now, on permanent stay in america.”

changmin nods absently. it makes sense. if jihye hasn’t changed as drastically as yunho has, america is her perfect fit.

“which leaves you under my care.”

changmin’s brows furrow down, strangeness making itself at home in his chest. his mouth parts, a thousand arguments to that forming on his tongue. changmin’s a fully grown, almost one hundred year old vampire descendant. he’s traveled the better part of the world, slain an entire coven of wendigo, and drained blood down his throat on a whim. he doesn’t need taking care of.

but “oh,” is what he manages to say. he can try again on that later. “did anyone else stay?” he asks cautiously. it was an anomaly, what they had been—royalty of the wolves befriending the grandchildren of the original vampires, letting them run as if they were their own—but even so, they had been family.

changmin had loved them.

now his curiosity burns right next to the ache of an old loss resting in his gut, and he wants to know.

“i’m sure you remember my cousin, boa. she has a home in the east, but she lives here in this building,” yunho tells him. “two floors below this one, actually, but she isn’t home either. she left some months ago for europe. something about liking the coffee better.”

changmin’s mouth splits in a grin at that even as he mentions the surrealness of the situation. "this is insanely strange," he says, still grinning. "really."

“imagine how strange it is to see a family member you haven’t laid eyes on in over half a century, wearing the clothes of his ancestors and shouting at the sky,” yunho chuckles. changmin makes a surprised noise; he knew that he had probably looked ridiculous with his brows currently shooting up and his mouth falling a fraction open, but he can’t stop staring.

yunho is laughing.

even though it’s at his own expense, changmin can’t help but marvel even a little. jihye had always been the more carefree one—he remembers yunho’s smile as rare, a laugh? nonexistant. it’s a warm sound, one changmin knows he wants to hear again.

“i do believe it can be excused for having to deal with that asshole in the elevator,” changmin says finally, voice quipped yet definitely amused. he punctuates it by downing the last of his wine in a single drink. yunho stands, walks to the kitchen and brings the bottle back with him.

“he won’t touch you again.” yunho promises as he pours more wine into changmin’s offered glass.

now that tone is something he remembers. “what did you do?”

giving a light shrug, yunho takes a small sip of his wine. “simply informed him that if another such attempt were to happen that his arms would never heal. or be reattachable, for that matter.”

“heal?”

“his arms will be out of commission for a while,” yunho intones flatly. changmin swears he catches a phantom of a smile on his mouth.

“yunho, you—”

“fulfilled my duties and my  _right_  as patriarch. anyone willing to treat another person as such should be aware of the consequences that pursue.”

changmin leans back and twirls his wine glass between his fingers. he looks at yunho, who simply looks back, and reevaluates his standing opinion of him; yunho may be relaxed enough to actually smile and laugh freely but he is still very clearly the commanding, royal force to be reckoned with and still very much the liege of those he considers his.

it’s glaringly obvious to changmin that he’s being overruled despite his lineage, by some twist of the fates. he’s yunho’s now, in a sense.

an urge of rebellion wells in his chest, raw and hot—changmin is no one’s, it took him years to get out of  _that_ and he would damn well stay out—but yunho looks at him with eyes so much like his sister’s, his old friend’s, and changmin swallows the feeling as he concedes the glow of yunho’s eyes, remembers the stark difference between their cultural dynamics.

wolves claim. wolves protect. and they don’t do it on whims.

“tell me about them,” changmin says dilatorily, backing away from the uncomfortable subject of his life once again being tied to someone else’s as a responsibility. “about the pack, i mean.”

“jihye is mated to an american native. as a representative of the lands he’s unable to relocate and jihye packed up to live with him and his family. they have two pups, both still little whelps.”

yunho pauses there as if waiting. changmin merely blinks at him slowly, smiles.

“i’m glad she found someone who could make her happy. she’s always wanted little ones.”

yunho starts. “i know you two have a bit of history—”

“yes, a history you bared your teeth at and tried to have my head over, but it is just that. history.” changmin says firmly, shutting yunho up. “i was nineteen when i was forced to leave, yunho, you know that. i loved jihye, probably more than i should have, but believe me when i say it wasn’t in the way you think it was. your sister and i…” changmin’s smile cracks into a flash of teeth, something bright and secret and just for himself. “we had an understanding.”

“boa’s into art,” yunho continues after a brief, contemplative pause with a nod. “she more than enjoys world recognition as a painter. she’s also been pursuing the last member of the western inugami clan from japan, a half blood. it’s been an extraordinary thing of a chase and i expect them to announce their engagement soon enough.”

changmin’s eyes widen in genuine surprise. the last member of the inugami clan— “crystal?”

“that is her name, yes,” yunho raises a brow in his own surprise as he moves to refil his glass again. “you know of her?”

“we met during my travels, years ago.” changmin says. “she’s brilliant, that one. eyes like lava and skin like the earth. it makes sense, now, when she mentioned that she was bickering with a ‘friend’ of hers. didn’t think it would be your cousin of all, though.”

“i was starting to wonder if boa had a thing for punishment,” yunho laughs.

“probably destined, with the way you canines tend to be. you don’t ever seem to do anything within a normal fashion.”

“meaning?”

“jihye for one, the way she was with me—and i have no doubt how she must’ve been with her mate. now your cousin.”

“jihye and kiyiya definitely hated each other on sight,” yunho muses, leaning back into the couch. “i suppose it’s more than true that supernaturals don’t follow the usual pattern of courtship.” yunho slants him a look, “vampires are definitely up there.”

“wouldn’t know,” changmin says absenrly with a light laugh, shrugging.

yunho grins in turn, tipping his glass back. “probably for the best.”

“whatever, but perhaps you’ll indulge me on something else,” changmin downs the last of his own wine, adjusts and gets comfortable. “if i recall, you hated drawing because you were _absolutely_ no good at it—” he raises a hand at yunho’s indignant sound, “—pray tell how you come to be an architect?”

yunho tells him about how he hasn’t stopped adhering his duties to his family’s royal bloodline, although he did not care for the title of ‘king’ when he had became the representative of wolves in all of the east on the council—something changmin is only generally familiar with due to his own family ties and his refusal to or a part of it—though changmin is curious. changmin listens as yunho skips over the time in which they’d practically lived together, instead talks about his days in south america as a lawyer, his brief time in between as an engineer and businessman. yunho’s voice is a smooth, mellow low and it couples with the wine in changmin’s system, making a blanket of safety in the wake of the nights previous events.

changmin doesn’t resist. he slips further down the couch and closes his eyes, sleeps.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

changmin wakes the next morning with a solid warmth pressing against his back and he turns over, more than surprised to see two bright green eyes blinking open at him. he pauses, completely unbelieving as he looks back those eyes, the eyes of his own cat, the cat he was forced to leave behind.

“seraphina?” he whispers as he watches the multicolored panther get up and stretch the length of his forearm with a purr. changmin scoops the cat up and hugs her to his chest, rubbing his cheek against the red and purple tinted black fur. seraphina’s chest rumbles loudly and more nostalgia slams into changmin, bringing blood tainted tears to his eyes that he tries to keep back at the sight of his size shifting demon cat, given to him as a kitten from his mother when he was a boy, right there in his arms. more often that not he would tuck seraphina onto his shoulder and take her with when he’d gone to run with the wolves. he’s missed her when he was taken away on that fire lit night sixty years ago.

changmin allows himself a moment to remember the loss as seraphina nudges against his bare shoulder where the oversized t-shirt has slipped off. “i missed you too.”

“glad to see you’ve not forgotten one another,” yunho’s voice rings out, breaking through changmin’s reverie. changmin turns and sees yunho standing in the doorway, dressed in slacks and framed by sunlight. yunho’s gaze gains intensity when he notes the red tears in changmin’s eyes.

“you kept her,” changmin says quietly.

“jihye kept her,” yunho corrects. “she stays with boa now, but i take care of her when she’s gone.”

changmin says thank you anyway, the sense of surrealness washing over him again. “this is amazing, yunho. all of it.”

“i told boa that you’re here,” yunho smiles at him. “she has a gallery opening tonight and she’ll be on her way back immediately afterward.”

changmin’s throat tightens around another murmur of thanks. seraphina gives a squirm in his arms and he lets go of his tightened hold.

yunho folds his harms and leans against the doorway, nods over to the dresser, small smile never wavering. “i bought you some clothes, too. i figured we were around the same size so don’t worry. they’re in the top drawer with your cellphone. someone found it in the elevator and returned it to the desk some time last night.”

“yunho—” changmin continues when he gets a brow raise, “i’ve said it about three times already. thank you. you didn’t have to—”

“i’m the patriarch,” yunho reminds him. “you’re kindred, changmin. pack. it’s natural.”

changmin watches yunho nearly vanish, gone from the doorway in a flash of demon speed that changmin is sure he wouldn’t have seen if he wasn’t partial to being demon himself. either way he finds he has nothing to say to that, even after last night;s harsh swell of rebellion. after sixty years, in which in the before time yunho had been on the semi-prowl for his blood because of his relationship with his sister, the mere idea of yunho doing anything for him simply because he’s considered pack is foreign in his mind, just slightly beyond comprehension.

changmin’s brain draws a blank the more he thinks on it. he comes up with the solution of accept or go just a tad insane and he allots the situation under accept for now—if he leaves it there long enough maybe it’ll become real.

seraphina jumps from changmin’s lap directly onto the dresser, green eyes boring into his with meaning before nudging a red tinted black paw at the clothing.

“i get it, i get it,” changmin laughs, walking over and peering at the neat stack of clothes, trying to imagine yunho out shopping, coming up with another blank.

changmin drops the borrowed, low hung pajama pants and pulls up the boxer shorts that were resting on top. the jeans go on next—dark wash, straightleg, completely dry, and  _distressed_ —and he takes off the t-shirt to don a sweater so soft that he lets out a pleased little sound of comfort. seraphina swishes her purple tinted tail in approval, making herself back at home in changmin’s hold and butting against his chin with a contented purr.

“what’s next, sera,” changmin stage whispers. “if boa’s rowdy ass brothers are around i just might slip into a coffin.” he jokes as he walks out of the room, pausing at the sight of the morning sunlight filtering through the tall windows, hanging bright and gold over the city.

he wonders what the sunsets are like from this high.

seraphina parts from his arms when he hits the bottom of the stairs, darts for a patch of sunlight. changmin grins, can only hope that boa’s flat is similar so that she has had plenty of places to curl up.

“breakfast,” yunho calls from somewhere around the stairs. changmin turns to see him sitting at the far back of the flat by an expanse of windows facing away from the sun and at a long table that can easily fit ten or more. there are only two plates atop it, three obsidian carafes and a mug. yunho sits at the far head, morning newspaper folded under his hands as he waits for changmin.

“thanks,” changmin says, the scent of it tickling at his nose, stomach growling at the knowledge of bacon and eggs. the plate waiting for him is steaming and he sits as yunho gestures towards the carafes.

“there’s orange juice if you want? coffee.” yunho says, pausing as he pushes the empty mug towards changmin.

changmin bites into a strip of bacon, hums—it’s  _good_. “and the third?” he asks around another bite.

“blood.”

dauntless, changmin reaches for the second carafe and pours. he fills the mug halfway, black coffee steaming up against his skin—and then he reaches for the third, pours. he brings the mug to his mouth, takes a sip.

“a-b,” he lets out another  _mm_  of appreciation, licks his lips before looking yunho in the eye in mild contemplation. “negative or positive?”

“negative.”

changmin nods, goes back to his bacon and eggs after another sip. “excellent choice, thank you.”

changmin feels yunho’s gaze linger as he continues to eat, but when he spares a glance yunho is eating from his own plate, bright amber eyes scanning the newspaper. still, changmin doesn’t miss the way the corner of yunho’s mouth is turned up.

it’s still a bit of an oddity to see yunho in a simple dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his markings on display, hair that bright cooper changmin so clearly remembers and eyes the color of the high sun.

seraphina bounds onto the table and mewls in a demand for attention. a little gratful for the distraction of his straying thoughts, changmin feeds the panther a piece of bacon, watching as she takes it and nibbles at it in an almost regal way.

“boa does the same when she has breakfast here with me,” yunho muses, quiet laughter in his tone.

“you don’t?” changmin questions archly, noting the smile in yunho’s eyes, the way they crinkle at the corner just so. certainly something had happened to yunho. though almost a century has passed changmin is more than sure that time itself can’t possibly be the singular cause. yunho is kinder, somehow. maybe even softer.

“of course i do,” yunho tells him.

“i’m vaguely amazed that you haven’t become a fat cat,” changmin slants a look at seraphina, who has the dignity to appear offended, her tail swishing and whiskers twitching.

“now you know that we of the demon variety will not become fat from bacon,” yunho chuckles, finishing his orange juice off.

changmin tsks distractedly as he glances outside to gather the angle of the sunlight, finished with his own plate and ruddy coffee. “lucky kitten,” he says before rising from the table, then,

“listen, yunho,” he starts, voice almost quiet, just a tinge hesitant. “i don’t actually want to go, but as i mentioned, i have school—a test tomorrow, and i really need to study.”

“i’ll drive you.” yunho says plainly.

“that’s really not—”

“boa or i will have to pick you up when she lands, unless you own a car?”

changmin shakes his head, and yunho rises from the table with a nod as he makes a small gesture to the table. “give me a second to clean.”

“let me.” changmin rebuts, insists, already stacking their empty plates. yunho says nothing, watching changmin as he carries off their dishes to the kitchen, rinsing them before placing them in dishwasher. he’s equally silent when they slip on their shoes and leave the flat, seraphina mewling them a goodbye from where she’s curled up under a ray of sun.

a pang of regret stings at changmin’s chest when he notices the ring on yunho’s finger, his hair back to black, eyes to brown, markings gone under the concealment spell.

they take the elevator to the sub levels, the doors opening to a garage park with twin rows of cars, each more impressive than the last.

“the blue ones are boa’s,” yunho tells changmin, following his gaze. “of course they are,” changmin smiles, counting the cars down the rows. “which means you only have two.”

“boa likes to spend,” yunho tells him. “i’m the more financially sensible between the both of us.”

there are two sleek cars, one black, the other one a steel gray that changmin stops at and decides he likes more. he drops his eyes to the grill. audi. he looks at yunho, who looks right back, brown eyes glinting in amusement.

“pretty,” changmin shrugs one shoulder. yunho unlocks the door for him and he slides into the seat. he rattles off his address absentmindedly when yunho asks him from behind the wheel, which goes into the navigation system on the dashboard. the car is nice, but changmin still finds himself with his fingers digging into the seat as yunho maneuvers the car with an ease that can only be born from years of practice.

“fast,” changmin murmurs, trying not to ruin the seat with his grip. yunho has the grace to laugh and the impudence to speed up. the gps skips trying to keep up with yunho’s speed, giving the commands to turn only seconds before the turn itself is missed.

“you ran around with jihye all the time—you even clung to  _me_  during hunts on occasion, and my  _driving_  frightens you?”

“i kept up in the treetops most of the time,” changmin mutters, sinking into his seat. “there weren’t other cars with us in the bloody woods.”

to changmin’s curiosity, yunho slows down, matches the pace of the other vehicles around them.

“thanks,” changmin breathes, placing a hand to his chest. yunho looks at him with furrowed brows.

“i can hear your heartbeat, as soft as it is,” yunho says slowly, questioning, then quieter. “i can smell your fear.”

something thick and tight knots changmin’s throat, and he swallows around it, forcing his canines not to lengthen.

“my mother died in a car accident. she would have lived.” he says haltingly, quieter. “if it weren’t for the shard of metal right through her chest, she would have lived.”

yunho’s hand tightens over the wheel. “i didn’t know. i’m—” his voice catches, and he turns to changmin with widened eyes. “that’s why your family took you away, isn’t it.”

a bout of nausea washes over changmin. his gums hurt.

“you didn’t know, it’s not your fault. if other cars weren’t around it wouldn’t bother me. i much prefer running, though.” changmin manages a flashing smile, and yunho glances at his teeth. “running with your family is one of the things i always missed the most. you were beautiful in your hunt, relentless. it was an art, and i was an appreciator.”

“i understand.” yunho says, allowing the change in conversation.

grateful, changmin realizes that yunho must miss it too.

“it’s this building,” changmin raises a hand to gesture, right before the gps says to turn. yunho makes a sound as they pull into the parking garage.

“you live here?”

“student living on student loans.” changmin slants a glare at him, laughing a little nonetheless. “my father’s inherited home is nice, but it’s hard to study with two still very much aging teenage sisters bringing their friends over for girl group practice.”

“you’re royalty, i was under the impression that you inherited the fortunes of your line?” yunho looks nonplussed as he parks and follows changmin to the elevator. the elevator is slow, creaks ominously on the way up.

“i walked away from it.” changmin says shortly, almost icily, eyes ahead. yunho says nothing as they reach the sixth floor and step out, recognizing the wall changmin puts up on the subject and respecting it. the atmosphere between them is light still, but yunho’s persona shifts noticeably, his gaze hardening when changmin opens the door to his apartment and lets them in.

“it’s small.” yunho says as he looks around the interior.

changmin rolls his eyes, only a little offended. it’s not as if he couldn’t afford nice things—he  _does_  have money, saved up over his traveling years and put away in the safety of his father’s hands—but he’s proud to have started from scratch like a  _normal_  person, proud that he has something to actually call his own. he thinks back to yunho’s mention of his royal inheritance and tries not to let out the growl forming in his chest. after his mother died his grandmother had snatched him up and away and tried for years to force him to her will, to take his rightful place on the council—

“student,” he finally mutters finally, breaking abruptly from that train of thought.

“patriarch,” yunho rumbles in return, noting changmin’s petulance.

“meaning?” changmin snaps his teeth, irritation running through him, burning and sudden. he wonders where the yunho from years ago came from—tactless, arrogant, demanding—and where the yunho he’d met just last night took a break to.

“pack is taken care of. you’ll be moving.”

that slow, quiet thing of a growl begins to sound out in changmin’s chest once more as he looks yunho dead on, blue-black eyes gone bright. the rested feelings of rebellion and defiance resurface anew, pulse through his frame angrily. he doesn’t bother to keep it at bay. his lip curls, and his canines lengthen in full.

“i won’t just move because you say so,” the growl grows louder as he goes on, “i’m a fully capable vampire who, despite your instinctual claims,  _does not belong to you._ ” changmin reigns to his full height, glowers when yunho’s eyes narrow and his mouth opens to protest, “you are mostly human,” but changmin isn’t done, and he lowers the intensity of the constant rumbling in his chest, holds up a hand.

“please, let me finish.” he says, slightly calmer now that he’s stated part of his piece. "you’ve been on the ‘patriarch’ spiel since last night. it’s appreciated that you care, really, especially considering our history, but i really don’t need to be taken care of. you’re full blooded royalty, your instincts are your instincts. i both respect and understand that, but you’ll do well to spare the respect back. when we parted last it was on shakier grounds, but these grounds are new.

before you go on to try and convince me—don’t lie, i’ll know, besides i can see that you want to—remember that it’s been almost seventy years, and that we’re both different now. the younger, nineteen year old me would have jumped at the opportunity, even twenty four and three years old me would have. but i’m twenty four and forty one years now, and i’ve changed."

changmin stares, and yunho stares back, looking as if he wants to argue. instead yunho slips off his shoes, lines them to the wall, then gestures to the kitchen table and its two mismatched chairs.

“may i?”

the inclination of the head changmin gives is enough permission for yunho, and he sits, waits until changmin sits across from him before folding his hands across the table top and taking a small breath.

changmin crosses his legs, slips into absolute stillness only the dead possess. sixteen seconds ease by. yunho thumbs the concealment ring on his finger, looks at changmin, and says, “i’m sorry.”

changmin’s mouth parts in genuine surprise. the yunho he knew didn’t apologize, much less say sorry and then mean it.

“you’re correct,” yunho starts diplomatically. “i am full blooded and with being a direct line of some of the original wolves my instincts are stronger than most. though hear me when i say that i am your protector, changmin, that i have no choice in it. my ties to you? to my sister? her husband and children, even. those ties runs in my blood and it is something i cannot entirely resist.” he gives changmin a small, almost pleading small. “pardon me in my demanding ways and forgive my reactions in the future, but you. are. _pack_. pack is taken care of. this time i’ll ask,”

yunho leans back and looks at changmin, completely serious in his intentions.

“there is an empty suite in my building, one right beneath my own. it was jihye’s before she left. it’s yours, if you’ll have it.”

changmin’s brow goes up, yunho chuckles.

“will you move into the building?”

yunho looks at changmin, watches his eyes darken to their usual beautiful murky blue and his posture loosen by a fraction. changmin blinks once, lowers his eyes to the table and crosses his arms.

“i couldn’t,” he says, pausing when yunho lets an almost inaudible disappointed sound slip.

the convincing begins, “it’s appropriate.”

“i can’t,” changmin says it on a soft breath. yunho’s gaze is intense and steady on him and he hates the way he starts to feel small in the confines of his own home. he squares his shoulders again, tilts his chin and faces yunho directly. “i don’t need to be taken care off, i’m more than fine on my own.”

a sudden flicker of anger passes across yunho’s features. for a moment his brown eyes bleed gold, his brows snapping down, looking all for the world as if he wants to punch something. or leave.

“changmin.” his name comes out only slightly edged when yunho says it. “i’m baring myself, changmin. as patriarch and as a person. you’re one of mine and i have a... raw, need to take care of you, even if you decline. i’ll still do it if you do, though just know that it would be more than pleasing to have you closer to me.”

it gives changmin pause, those words. feeling hasn’t crossed his mind once, not in the emotional sense. instinct is one, completely separate thing—especially for wolves, changmin knows. it is another when it twines with one’s literal emotions.

“but—”

“and that pack lives together if it is possible?”

“but i—”

“boa would be thrilled to have you nearer.”

changmin wants to curse. he should’ve known that yunho would use boa as a tactic in the matter, possibly his last resort; changmin and boa had been close during their time together despite her being older. she was an older sister figure, another sibling to him. using boa against him like that is just shy of manipulative. but changmin is mostly human, and it works.

his eyes fall to the table, his facade to the floor as he hugs his folded arms tighter, says quietly, “the apartments are so  _big_.” the idea of living in one of those large, echoing apartments by himself stretches out before him.

“i designed them that way.” yunho is grinning, and changmin kind of wants to punch it off.

“it’ll be lonely.”

yunho’s grin turns into an amused, contemplative smile as he tilts his head just so. “you live alone now,” he points out. “i don’t smell any other consistent scent besides yours.”

“that’s not the problem.” changmin closes his eyes for a moment, then gets up and pours himself a glass of water. “my apartment is is more of the cozy variety. homey. a large place such as that for myself—” he breaks off, the memory of old vintage wood and too many rooms passing through his mind. he sits back down. “it would be too much.”

yunho says nothing, just watches as changmin sips his water and then runs the tip of a finger along the rim.

“there are several rooms in my own suite.” yunho says quietly, at last.

changmin’s eyes fly to meet his. him, living with  _yunho._ “i really don’t think—”

“boa is currently in a relationship with crystal kay, who will more than likely be living with her soon. there no doubt that it would be…” he pauses, mouth twitching upward a fraction. “ _loud_ ,” he says. “it would be chaos for all involved if their baby brother is living with them when they decide to mate.”

changmin blinks owlishly; he didn’t consider living with boa, though gems sure if given the time he might have, he scratches the thought out with yunho’s very pointedly given information.

“understand, changmin. having found you means finding a member of our pack that we thought gone, lost. jihye had no hopes of locating you, though she tried valiantly. she had your name and your heritage, but given the knowledge of your status in the supernatural world you were kept under tight wraps, even for her. boa looked too, and even i made attempts on their behalf. i’s my responsibility to take care of you, one i don’t begrudge in even the slightest, but also, my sister will never let me hear the end of it. lastly,” yunho pauses, eyeing changmin dramatically.

“lastly?” changmin prompts.

“boa would, without a doubt, make you do it herself.”

“boa—”

“is pack, believes in pack, and by the gods she misses you. if you don’t move she’ll most likely move here. do you think she’d let you out of her sight after so long?”

changmin gets up abruptly, opens his fridge, pulls out a pitcher, pours himself half a cup of blood, tilts the cup to his lips and slams it back, pitcher still in hand, refrigerator wide open.

he wonders if that means yunho would follow, the three of them living in the the tiny apartments offered in the old building. his mind races with the knowledge of werewolf familial dynamics, wars with the idea of considering the instincts of a demon so powerful against his own wishes to remain as is: free. remembering yunho's words, he also fights with the knowledge that his freedom is not technically in any state of jeopardy, that it's just him and his own past experiences hindering him from having this.

not just having it, but having it  _again._

changmin sets the cup down onto the table with a little more force than necessary, thin ropes of blood streaming down the sides and pooling at the bottom, pretty.

red is smeared across his bottom lip, staining bright against his teeth.

changmin thinks about the werewolf seated before him, thinks about jihye, and decides he wants it.

“fine,” he says after a long, quiet moment, an inflection of resignation coloring his tone. he licks his lips, the tang of copper sharp on his tongue. “i'll allow it. you've yourself a deal this time, jung. i’ll move.”

“and i’ll be taking charge of your tuition.”

changmin’s voice raises an octave, a pitch, maybe two. “ _what?_ ”

“i hope we don’t have this conversation every time you learn something new,” yunho pinches the bridge of his nose, but there is laughter in his voice. changmin momentarily forgets how to words, forgets the oddly brooding directions plaguing his train of thought. “but—yunho!”

“pack, changmin. patriarch.” yunho flashes his own teeth, lip upturned. “the sooner you accept the easier it will transpire.”

“but—”

“did you know that patriarch is another word for alpha,” yunho chimes in calm, false innocence.

“yunho that is honestly too much—”

“say thank you.”

“— _thank you_.”

to his trepidation, changmin feels his eyes sting with tears, and he mentally curses his overwhelming emotions and his odd need to cry as of late.

“i’m aware that i’m not being the most gracious,” changmin starts, kicking the refrigerator closed in a minor distraction. “i’m just not very talented in the accepting of…  _gifts_ , if you will, of this caliber. i mean—”

"it’s a lot to take in. just think of it differently; keep in mind that this is as natural for me as it’s unnatural for you.

the sense of surrealness comes back with the force of the winds, and changmin sits back down. the edges of his vision blur, from the red tinted tears or the cool feeling washing him he doesn’t quite know or care to tell. there is a plethora of emotions rising throughout him, questions, one prominent over the others:

since when is it natural for yunho to take care of others?

“i don’t know what the hell is happening anymore.” changmin runs his fingers through his hair, tightens them there and tugs. “i feel as if i should be waking up any moment because even when i dreamt of running into one of you again, it definitely wasn’t like this.”

“it’ll come with time,” yunho reassures him. changmin fixes his gaze on him, notes how he looks out of place in his little apartment with his height and stature folded into one of changmin’s old chairs, how stunningly different he is compared to changmin’s own memory.

“i’ll take the empty flat,” changmin murmurs, eyes moving forward to look at nothing again. “i’d hate to bother you like that.”

“it’s quite alright,” yunho insists.

a few of changmin’s lingering curiosities come back to the forefront of his mind, ones like significant others and children. “what if—”

“not that it is your business, i have no intentions of finding a mate, changmin. don’t worry about it. though should you decide to do so the previous offer remains and jihye’s place is yours.”

relief is cool through changmin as he utters another word of thanks. even if yunho is quiet, he’s company. the idea of having a large home to himself is still subduing, almost mind numbing after the time he’d been taken away and practically held hostage in the royal family manor alone. besides, changmin knows that it takes nothing but a thunderstorm to have himself locked in a closet and calling for the cops.

changmin hums, breaking out of his thoughts and mindful of yunho’s gaze as he stands, stretches, moves to rinse his cup in the sink.

“so when do i move,” he asks nonchalantly.

“grab your school things and some clothes and you can make yourself at home within the hour. i’ll handle the rest.”

changmin doesn’t feel surprise this time, just wry amusement that he thinks he’ll be feeling a lot more often. he swishes soapy water in his cup, pours it out and rinses again. he supposes he should be thankful that he doesn’t own a lot of things, even at twenty four and forty one years.

“will it fit in your car?”

“we’ll put it in the trunk.”

with another hum, changmin dries his hands and walks back to his room. he doesn’t have much clothing, or much of anything for a student living from check to check on that matter. he’s positive all the clothing that he has fits into a single duffle with the way he folds his things. by the time he’s finished with both the closet and the dresser he realizes how small his life is, how almost normal. it brings a small, ghost of a smile to his face.

his room is practically bare, nothing but a neatly made twin bed and said dresser, in which on top rest the few pictures of his friends he’d taken. as if needing to bring those and nothing else he pulls a box out of his closet, wraps them in a sweater and gently slides them in.

he sits the box on the table first when he comes out of his room, goes back for the luggage. yunho is silent as changmin brings each piece out, not uttering a word until changmin brings out the third and last suitcase and looks at him expectantly—this wasn’t his idea and he’s sure as hell not carrying it.

“what, weak in your old age?” changmin asks with a raised brow.

“that’s all?” yunho asks, startled.

“student,” changmin reiterates. "besides, i make a point to keep my prized possesions elsewhere far."

yunho nods in understanding and stands, takes the luggage in hand. “what of your school things?”

“in the suitcase with my laptop.”

yunho nods again. he carries the three pieces of luggage as if they’re nothing, and changmin supposes they aren’t, in a sense, though they seem awkward to handle.

changmin wonders, briefly, if he shouldn’t have mentioned yunho’s age.

 

 

* * *

 

 

changmin finishes studying for the evening, closes his laptop, rises with a stretch and a sigh.

“you’re diligent,” yunho comments from behind him.

changmin turns, sees him chopping something up on the counter in the kitchen, and wonders what victoria will think of the situation. he’d tried to call her earlier and was met with her voicemail; he figures that she’s sleeping off a hangover, maybe still with the stranger she'd promised to leave with. changmin left her a voicemail detailing nothing but the basics: that he’s fine and that he’s run into an old friend.

“top of my class,” changmin nonchalantly boasts, more than proud. he had earned that number one in front of his name the normal way: through hours of reading and hard work. he mentally pats himself on his shoulder for resisting to use of his enhanced memory all the while.

“an accomplishment at your university. what do you plan to do after?”

“i’m aiming for my doctorate.”

“ _ambitious_.” yunho smiles, and changmin is once again momentarily struck at the sight of it. “boa will be landing late tonight,” yunho continues. “we’ll most likely see her tomorrow.”

“excellent. i have an early class anyway.”

“do you drive?”

“no. i take the bus.”

“we’ll fix that, then. you should have your own means for getting about.”

changmin squints at yunho, trying not to run up the numbers of what yunho’s trying to spend on him and failing. yunho’s already proven that he’s going to have his way and that he absolutely knows how to do so. to changmin, alpha fits so much better than patriarch, especially since it takes away the vague paternal sense of the matter. changmin reflects with little to no relief that yunho at least doesn’t have any children.

ah. that wave of surrealness again.

“i’m still not entirely sure what to make of this,” changmin admits as he pads over to the kitchen. “i mean, i understand the gist from years prior, but i know nothing of pack for being pack and i’m starting to feel how i imagine cinderella felt. i never did believe that she was too comfortable moving into the palace.”

“you easily adapt, from what i’ve heard,” yunho offers, switching off a burner. “it’ll just take time, and to be fair, at least you won’t have to worry about court politics like cinderella probably did.”

“…. pack politics,” changmin rebuts.

“fairly simple.” yunho pulls plates down from a cabinet. “it’s most definitely not like it once was. your life’s your own and completely yours to command. what you want to do, who you desire to mate, who your comrades are to be—those things, unlike centuries before, are your own to decide. as patriarch, i don’t interfere much.”

"abruptly uprooting me from my home isn't exactly minor interference,  _alpha."_  changmin points out, earning an playfully flat stare.

“location is of the exception; the pack is thriving and should jihye return, she and kiyiya would live here with their children. boa and crystal kay will live here once they’ve mated as crystal kay is the last of her kind. since you yourself are not mated, it’s my duty to see to what needs you harbor. your name will be added to my banking account, i’ll handle your schooling fees, and so on.”

“so,” changmin says slowly, crossing his arms over the counter. “what you’re saying is that you’re my fairy god mother.”

yunho gives a glare that promises consequences. changmin sniggers.

“alpha, since you seem to persist on it.” yunho drawls.

“sure, sure,” changmin laughs, for once  _happy_  with the familiar. “alpha.”

“so then, what do i get to do, since you take care of me in all of these ways.”

“what you wish.”

“as i wish. really,”

“yes. save for right now—right now you will set the table.”

“ah, but—” changmin groans dramatically, giving into a sudden childish urge. “i thought i could do as i wish?”

“listen to your alpha.”

“fine, i suppose you’re in need of a live in servant.”

“it was you who didn’t want to live alone, was it not?”

“does this rule out any parties?”

“hyunwoo throws a party every friday, feel free do go down six levels and avail yourself.”

changmin almost thinks about it, remembers the nose he broke in the elevator trying to get  _away_  from one of hyunwoo’s parties. “i believe i will do without.” he chuckles lightly. “i’m not much of a partier anyway,” a small bit of a smirk touches changmin’s lips, and he catches yunho’s eye, knows they’re thinking the same thing, of a time where changmin and jihye were nineteen and stupid. “not anymore, anyway.”

“you were at one last night,” yunho observes anyway.

“at victoria’s insist. she liked the idea of being someone different for a night.” the image of victoria with her head thrown back and a stranger between her legs flickers across changmin’s mind, and he banishes it to a dark corner, definitely not fighting a blush.

“embarrassed?” yunho notes, brow arching, amber eyes playfully mocking changmin’s moment of discomfort.

“let’s just say that victoria was more than different last night.” changmin notches his won brow, finishing with the plates and silverware as he arranges them on the table in their previous spots from breakfast. yunho follows with a bowl in one hand and a platter in the other, and changmin takes his seat, eyeing the plates with anticipation.

“did you ever become a chef,” changmin half asks as he watches yunho pour them glasses of wine, changmin’s topped off with more a-b negative.

yunho admits that he indeed tried it. “i find that i don’t enjoy cooking to other people’s whims.”

“anyone would be terrified to send a plate back to you,” changmin laughs, relaxing once again. the tension from sitting at his computer and scoring through his books eases out of his body as he takes a sip of his muddy wine, the copper tang strong against the bittersweet juice, mixed just right.

yunho serves himself his food, then changmin’s, and changmin takes note of how yunho’s steak is definitely less cooked than his own.

“you do know that i don’t mind rare, right? i mean, i’m drinking blood from a wine glass.”

“i remember jihye telling me that your father always sent word for your food to be cooked due to your humanly nature,” yunho grins. “but i see hunting with the wolves has rubbed off on you.”

changmin resists rolling his eyes, instead picks up his knife and cuts into his dinner as yunho goes on.

“i talked to my sister,” he says, and changmin freezes into a mode of absolute still for a moment, his slow, quiet heart skipping a beat. if yunho notices—and changmin is sure he does—he says nothing. “kiyiya and jihye plan to come visit you.”

“it’ll be nice to see them,” changmin admits it quietly, almost shy in the weight of the news and how easily yunho delivers it. “what kind of supernatural is kiyiya?”

“he and his family are what to be known as shapeshifters of the wolven variety. a distant descendant of the original line.” yunho’s mouth turns up at the corner. “it’s a part of the reason why his connection with jihye was so… explosive.”

“jihye never got on with others very well,” changmin laughs.

“she got on with you,” yunho says, smile still in place. “but you’re correct. it was a meeting to behold. she was very vehement, and kiyiya was insanely calm towards her and that whiplash mouth of hers.”

changmin’s laughter is cut short by a long appreciative hum as he eats, and they fall into a comfortable silence until they finish. yunho steps into the kitchen and returns, hands changmin a black box.

“there’s going to be a bit of a celebration in lieu of your arrival into the pack when the others get here,” yunho explains when changmin narrows his eyes at him in question. the sweet scent had reached changmin’s nose before yunho had even handed it to him.

“you don’t expect me to eat this myself then, do you?”

“we’ll share.”

changmin slips the sides of the box open and readies a fork, then pauses, holds the box away from yunho, who raises a brow in confusion, his own fork poised. changmin’s eyes narrow again.

“are you allowed to have chocolate?”

yunho’s eyes widen a fraction, disbelief drawing his brows right back up as he leans back into his seat. “you aren’t serious.”

“very.”

there is a pause, then, “i’m a  _werewolf_ , changmin, not a puppy.” yunho says it gently and incredulously, as if explaining the origin of his blood to someone little and that he can’t believe he  _has_  to, and changmin can tell that yunho is more than mildly offended.

“canine is canine,” changmin says, dipping a finger into the thick chocolate icing and curling his tongue around it. he about purrs, it’s so rich and  _good_. “never you mind jung, i take it back,” he says. “i’ll eat it myself.”

wordlessly, and faster than changmin expects, yunho takes the box of chocolate cake and places it evenly between them, slices out a piece with his fork and eats it in an almost defiant manner.

changmin laughs outright, not resisting the wide smile that forms across his face, and it doesn’t feel any kind of strange to be sharing a slice of chocolate cake with jung yunho, former wolf out for his head and now his liege. the dessert is finished between them almost too soon, and changmin leans back into his seat, hoping that the grin lingering around his mouth does the feeling of content curdling up in his throat some semblance of justice.

“thank you, yunho.”

“my pleasure,” yunho tells him with a smile of his own, then, as he cleans the box and forks up, “have you spoken with your family.”

“it has been considered. my father knows little of you, unlike my mother and her family. he used to worry about me trying to live in the past, so he might have a few choice words when finds that i’m living with a strange demon.”

“strange,”

“yes,” changmin says, meeting yunho’s stare. “it’s quite strange for me as well. you’re hardly the person i remember.” changmin leaves it there, wondering if yunho will offer explanation on what had changed him, something, anything as to why he is kinder, warmer, and not trying to dismember changmin’s body.

“years change everyone, even those who seem unlikely to do so. though i’m not the same demon from then, i am also no different. there might be times where i resemble the person you knew then than the person you perceive now.”

changmin’s hackles rise. it’s a warning, he knows, but his instinct stills his body. with an almost uneasy feeling changmin remembers the asshole from the elevator, and how yunho had so casually and matter of factly admitted to breaking his arms. changmin agrees to yunho’s statement with a slight nod—yunho breaking people’s limbs on a whim is definitely a trait of the him changmin once knew.

“this time around though, i am your patriarch, and my standing towards you has changed completely. before you were simply jihye’s—” yunho pauses, looking for a word.

“friend,” changmin supplies.

“ _companion_ , to me.” yunho says, amber eyes bright. “i had no inclination to deal with jihye or her friends then, not until we got over ourselves and solidified our relationship and familial ties when the council called to us. it more than definitely made our lives easier to be in each other's good graces.”

the mention of the council again. changmin remains still, his eyes hardening. yunho notices, and mistakes it for curiosity.

“it’s a network of demons from every base kind. i speak for the wolf blooded of the entire east just as elder gao speaks for the dragons and lady vinkovic answers for fae. the council is mainly to police our own.”

“and jihye?”

“when jihye mated she became council through kiyiya in the west, though she is second tier. being under my direct jurisdiction, you and boa are apart of the main tier.”

“but jihye is your sister,” changmin furrows his brows, genuinely curious now. the thought of him having a higher importance than his old best friend  _in her own family_  didn’t sit well with him. “why isn’t she of the main tier?”

“it was her decision. if kiyiya had come here instead of staying in the americas he would be first tier here and second to his own. again though, his position made it highly improbable for him to leave.”

changmin mulls over the idea, the sense of it piecing itself together and the thought of the council falling away. he looks up at yunho in question. “i’m pack now, right?”

“yes.” yunho says firmly, waiting for changmin to go on.

“what would it mean for me if i decided to marry, then? if i wanted to be with a human.”

yunho chuckles. “i personally doubt that you will, but you will remain pack, along with your significant other and any children you may have.”

changmin rears back offendedly. “why wouldn’t i marry?”

“because you might wish to mate instead.” yunho says simply, lifting a shoulder in a small shrug. “vampire blood is hard to ignore, i’m sure you know. your heritage alone very well may lead you to a different route in concerns of, ah,  _reproduction_.”

changmin snorts, but his mind still filters through the different people he’s had in his bed, more of them being inhuman rather than not, and decides that yunho has a point. “noted.” he says shortly, ignoring the amused spark yunho’s eyes gain. “but i might need some semblance of normal after the things that have transpired in the years.”

“would you be satisfied with a human?” yunho looks at changmin from where he leans against a kitchen counter and crosses his arms absentmindedly. “supernatural  _is_  normal for you, changmin. you were born into it.”

“which means nothing,” changmin retaliates lowly, affronted and blood warming under his skin. “remember that just as you, i am not the same person either. i’ll do as i please.”

yunho looks at him, features blank, calm, looks at him as if he wants to correct changmin for speaking to him in such a manner, and changmin’s hackles rise again, teeth aching to lengthen at the intense stare he’s getting. he tilts his chin in a dare, but yunho opens his mouth and continues leisurely, unbothered. it makes changmin feel just a tad small.

“should you choose to mate with a demon of any kind, you’ll both have the choice to remain within this pack or join the other’s. it is your decision.”

“pack politics,” changmin mutters, letting tension ease out of him yet again. he’s already tired of the thought, sick of the conversation, and he steers. “i will most likely finish my degree before the thought crosses my mind again. i don’t have the time for anything else right now.” he tells yunho, closing his eyes for a moment. “there will be no worries over this for a few years at the least.”

“you have all the time,” yunho says, laughter in his voice at the irony of changmin’s words. “but as you said about the cake, never myself mind.” yunho pushes himself from the counter and walks back to the table, preparing to to clean away of the dishes.

“i’ll do it,” changmin stays yunho’s hand. it’s infinitely warmer than his naturally cool temperature and smooth to the touch, an almost welcome burn to his fingertips. “you do whatever it is you do,” changmin commands gently, apologizing. “i’ll clean.”

“i was actually hoping to hear about your studies,” yunho tells him, accepting. “they seem to hold a great deal of importance to you.”

“they do.”

yunho follows changmin into the kitchen, taking their glasses and refilling them with wine while changmin makes quick work of the plates and loads them into the dishwasher. changmin accepts the glass of wine after rinsing his hands, and yunho leads him to settle on the couches in the living room.

“i’m working on teika’s selective works at the moment, though i’m considering switching the center of my dissertation to the manyoshu all together. there’s a poem in it that i skimmed by only months after i departed the first time.”

“which one?” yunho asks gently, the picture of perfect, polite curiosity.

changmin looks at yunho in a stretch of silence, contemplating. changmin is a private person concerning the things that touch his hardly beating the heart most, and seldom does he share. he looks at yunho and thinks of how he’s changed, of how his bright bright amber eyes hold something genuine, and parts his lips.

“come to me, if only in my dreams,” changmin says at last, quietly. he waits for yunho’s reaction, as it is a love poem, and is silently, sadly, wonderfully and crestfallenly surprised when yunho’s bright bright eyes slip closed, his shoulders falling just so.

“come to me, if only in my dreams, where my head rests upon my arm and not yours—let this veiled moon above and these dark, brooding pines below be witness.”

it is recited with a conviction, the last word said on an almost sigh, yunho’s demeanor shifting to pensive. changmin watches with a dull ache in his chest as a sadness settles over yunho, a weight that makes its seem like he understands more than well what the words of the poem means.

“yes,” changmin says after a moment, breathless, the only thing he can say. “yes, that one.”

“it is a beautiful poem.”

changmin watches yunho’s eyes slit open and slant towards the windows to reflect the lights of the sparkling city below. he feels almost guilty for sharing. he never meant to—and yet his tongue says what he says—

“you seem to know it very well.”

a chuckle without mirth. “that is because i do.”

“i’m sorry.” changmin murmurs, hating that he’s reminded yunho of something he obviously didn’t want to remember. yunho says nothing, eyes still toward the windows and gaze still directed in where changmin can’t follow. changmin sets his glass down, wonders if he’s stepping out of line as he rises from his spot and sits next to yunho instead.

changmin ignores the very real possibility of overstepping his place in yunho’s home and folds in on himself, curls into yunho’s side like jihye would do him when he seemed to need someone. minutes fly by, changmin’s murky blue eyes tracing the lines of the city when he notices yunho shifting and looks up at him.

“you seemed as if you needed someone,” he says exactly while yunho looks down at him, eyes still dazed as if he’s just coming back to the world they sit in.

“it’s an open secret within the family,” yunho begins. “there’s no doubt you’ll hear of it eventually, but i fell in love when i lived in the south americas.” he admits slowly, almost woodenly, then, with a quiet awe that speaks of long untouched emotion, “she was a force of a woman, brilliant as she was beautiful. a pure amazonian wolf with skin the color of the fawn we hunted together and eyes like the leaves, hair as blue black as night sky.” a distant smile lifts the corner of yunho’s mouth, a smile so kind and sad that changmin’s heart pauses.

“her name was aella, and she chose a human husband.”

“yunho i’m—”

“do not be. aella was drawn to him and the way he hurt, and she healed him. they had a normal life, many children, which she always spoke of wanting. i wasn’t capable of giving her that then.”

changmin carefully eases away to a respectful, still close distance, squeezes yunho’s hand in his own and is mindful of his strength out of habit despite that yunho probably would hardly even bruise if he used his full vampiric strength.

“you’re a good person, yunho, more than people give you credit for, i’m sure.”

changmin stops counting the minutes as they sit, silent, contemplative. there’s a comfort still, and changmin never once in his life thought that he would be comforting yunho, of all people, and he offers his presence freely to him, who’s done nothing but be kind to changmin in return and help his situation since meeting him only a sliver more than a day before.

it solves the mystery, though, changmin thinks. the mystery of what happened to change yunho so drastically, that loving someone enough to let them go altered so much of his ways. changmin knows how much a choice like that damages and though he knows he might witness a happiness surrounding normalcy due to his human natures, he and yunho are the same, perhaps, in the way they loved so strongly and let go. no one remains the same after a decision of that caliber, and the you definitely don’t walk away without burns when the love is genuine.

“you are an odd little vampire,” yunho says at last, gently taking his hand back and sipping from his wine glass before settling it onto the table. he doesn’t ask changmin to move away though, and changmin feels a flicker of victory run up his spine.

“i thought you were aware of that already, and i’m  _hardly_  little. i’m sixty five years old, thank you very much.”

yunho’s chest rumbles, his eyes widening just so. “my gods are you young,” he says in vague disbelief. “jihye was born in the same year as you but she’s definitely not  _sixty five_. changmin i’m nearly six  _times_ your senior in years.”

“jihye is a half blooded wolf of royalty.” changmin says flatly. “and you’re pure bred. i’m only a fourth vampire. we age very, very differently.”

“jihye’s first born is almost older than you.”

“ _wolf_.” changmin reiterates, tone amused nonetheless. he knows that yunho has pushed the memories back and has successfully returned to the present with the way he delivers his archly, pointed remarks. 

with the distinct lack of awkwardness in the renewed atmosphere, changmin finds himself glad that he offered his comforts, the exact opposite of what he expected.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it seems that with trying a different writing style and story type i've come to pen quite a few things on the "homin do not"'s list. changmin holding his tongue and being so easily persuaded, for examples. it's painfully out of character. remind to me to never do it again after this story is over.


	4. Chapter 4

 

changmin fingers the bracelet his father had given him as a child, twisting and turning it around his wrist nervously as he paces the length of the condo. his stomach knots, tangling more by the second.

“you’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t stop pacing, changmin.” yunho tells him from his spot at the table, eyes trained on the newspaper in his hands.

“easy for you to say,” changmin mutters. while they had not always been on well terms, yunho’s known his sister for her entire life, has witnessed her grow up, mate, and have a child. the last time changmin himself had seen her, he was being forced away—kicking, screaming, and biting—on a fiery night in the late nineteen hundreds without a word since. how is changmin to reconcile with her, now a mother and a mate,  _different_?

“you’ll make seraphina sick,” yunho tries, still reading the paper.

changmin turns on his heel, snaps, teeth bared and canines prominent. “piss  _off_. i haven’t seen jihye in forty-six years, over an  _entire fucking century_  in half blooded wolven time, over  _three_  in full. she’s mated, yunho. she has  _children_. so you’ll  _be so kind_  as to  _forgive_ me if i find myself in a moment of panic.”

eyes bright at the outburst, yunho sets his paper down and walks up to changmin, cuts off his pacing path and rests his hands on his shoulders. he catches changmin’s murky blue glare with a hard look of his own, and opens his mouth.

“changmin.” yunho says his name in a firm, quiet, soothing tone that makes changmin tense and relax all at once, hackles up as he watches yunho’s pupils dialate, too late for an apology, and then,

“ _stop_.”

a hellish burning sparks in changmin’s blood, runs up through the crevices of his muscles and seizes every inch of him. his body stills, abrupt and painful. his lungs catch. his heart skips.

rage encases him from scalp to foot.

yunho’s voice maintains its smoothness, and changmin wants to set fire to something.

“why are you nervous?”

“fuck you.” changmin manages to mumble out, throat closing around a deep set growl. his eyes are wide as he looks directly into yunho’s. he feels his own stare shrink, resize, flash, burn bright, and he sees ultraviolet. yunho narrows his eyes at him, and his hold becomes a little tighter.

“answer me.”

anger rolls off of changmin in waves, and if the tangy scent of it bothers yunho he doesn’t show it in the slightest. “different.” changmin utters around the force of being compelled. “nothing to keep us friends.”

“your relationship with boa is unchanged. seamless, even.” yunho points out.

“ _different_.” changmin stresses, suddenly looking exhausted. yunho lets him free, and he nearly crumples with the shuddering gasp of breath he takes. changmin’s body coils, and despite the hot anger still skimming the surface of his skin, he ignores the ache in his bones to tip his head to the side when yunho opens his mouth, gives the tiniest flash of teeth in warning.

“sorry.”

“it has been amended,” yunho nods curtly, putting a step of distance between them. his stare sweeps changmin from head to toe, and he gestures towards the couches as he takes in the restraint and weariness riddling through him. “sit,” he says, going to the kitchen and returning with a glass of dark red. he heads it to changmin, who manages to crack an eye open. “drink.”

silence ticks by for a moment. “you didn’t have to do that,” changmin says around the rim of the glass, eyes closed again. “i’m not stupid enough to not know when i seem to cross one of your… lines.”

“no, you are not.” yunho’s voice comes softer still, but he does not apologize. changmin chuckles into his drink. he takes what he can get.

“as i said. i’m nervous because we are both different now, there is nothing to keep us as friends.” changmin sits his glass down and thinks of the ease of his relationship with yunho—despite its obvious oddities. it only serves to drive home how severely things have changed, how much jihye has probably changed.

“your relationship with boa stands as it was.” yunho points out, almost sagely.

“your sister is another case. i do not love her in the same way anymore and yet—”

“yet?”

“i fear it may be uncomfortable. what if it’s awkward, or what if her mate does not like me due to our past? what if—”

“jung changmin.”

“ _excuse me_?”

“changmin, did you not speak with jihye and kiyiya over the phone, or was i making that up at three thirty seven in the morning when i was trying to sleep.”

“i will  _not_  be changing my name—”

“kiyiya and jihye expressed genuine joy that you’re here. kiyiya doesn’t covet his wife’s past with you and jihye has not changed much, trust me. also, it will only be needed for more legal purposes; i’ve issued you an id of state and i expect it to be kept on you.”

changmin sucks in a breath through his teeth, eyes boring into yunho’s. “you do realize that you are the absolute worst?” he says like a lament, and yunho chuckles as changmin stands and stretches. “it’s just hard to imagine jihye all grown up, with a family, responsible—”

yunho makes a strange noise in his throat, something between amusement and disdain, and changmin resists the urge to cackle.

“did she stop cursing, at least?”

“kiyiya saw to it.” yunho tells him, just as the doorbell rings.

the panic surges back up changmin’s spine immediately, and he pauses in a vague sense of shock when yunho grabs his hand, squeezes it gently before releasing it and making his way to the door. changmin’s vague shock sparks into the full thing the moment jihye walks in though, her hair in a single long braid down her back, puppy ears missing and holding the hand of a black haired little girl with shining yellow eyes. a step behind her, another, with sun kissed skin, black hair that fell by his waist and even blacker eyes. with him is another small child, a boy with the same yellow eyes, clinging to his hand.

“mama, this is him?” the little girl asks, words accented, eyes boring straight into changmin.

“that’s changmin, my best friend,” jihye says, voice strained.

“the man that helped you a lot when uncle yunho used to be mean?”

yunho gives a soft scoff at the remark, to which jihye ignores. “yes.”

the little girl pulls her hand from her mother’s and walks up to changmin, who sucks in a sharp breath. her yellow eyes look up at him with serious intent that seems out of place on her young face—changmin see’s parts of jihye in her, her sharp jawline and the way she holds it, her entire little body bespoken with pride despite the seriousness there.

“hello,” changmin has to force himself not to whisper with the awe coursing through his veins as he bends his knees until he is level with the little girl. he holds out his hand, waits patiently until she takes it, shakes it gently. “what’s your name?”

“min,” she says to him proudly, eyes bright. “just like you!”

“it’s very nice to meet you, min,” changmin says, throat constricting, eyes misting with tears he forces himself to not shed. his teeth hurt, and he lets them lengthen.

“changmin,” jihye greets him as he stands. changmin nods, dazed, world tilting dangerously when jihye moves forward in a blur and hugs him tightly, mumbles into his chest, “i’m so happy yunho found you.”

“it would’ve been hard to miss me, considering i was cursing at the sky at the top of my lungs,” changmin laughs lightly, easing the heaviness of the situation away in fear of a complete breakdown. seeing jihye—holding, touching, breathing the same  _air_ —opens a mental flood of memories, things he wants to say, good and bad, but changmin notes with inner relief that there is no regret in his system, no heat, not even a flicker of the monstrosity of feelings he once had. he hugs jihye back with an arm around her shoulder and brings her to his side, fingers playing at the loose strands of hair from her braid, and old gesture. “don’t be rude, jihye. introduce me to your mate.”

"it asn't even been five minutes," jihye narrows her eyes up at him, hums, “are you already telling me what to do?”

“someone’s got to,” yunho deadpans, to which kiyiya laughs, “if that’s not the truth.”

kiyiya comes forward and introduces his son first, “this is jin,” he says, and jin bows to changmin before carefully hiding himself behind kiyiya’s legs. “he’s still a little shy, unlike min.”

“hi there, jin, it's nice to meet you, too.” changmin takes in his features, short dark hair and sweet tan skin and yellow eyes and says, “you really, seriously look exactly like your sister.”

there’s a gurgle, one that sounds suspiciously like “nooooo” before jin pivots from behind kiyiya and zips away. changmin laughs, watching him go for only a moment before giving kiyiya his attention.

“it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” changmin grins, canines on display as he shakes kiyiya’s hand. if kiyiya notices, he says nothing, just grins right back.

“likewise. i’ve heard many a story about you.”

“oh, well then you probably know about what a pain i can be,” changmin laughs.

“hey, blue eyes, i’m not that mean,” jihye mutters, giving a strained thing of a yelp when jin finds his way into her lap and tugs at an errant lock of hair.

“she’s still childish in some ways,” kiyiya offers in a stage whisper, then, “but she’s definitely right about one thing.”

“uh,” changmin raises a brow in question. “and what might that be?”

“your eyes  _do_  look like outer space. do they really change color?”

chuckling low, jihye interrupts again, this time with a look that tells secrets. “only when he’s hungry.”

“oh, wow, jihye,” changmin widens his eyes, and suddenly everything feels a little more like normal. “ _shut up_.”

“bad words!” min and jin chime in unison, not once looking up from what they’re doing to jihye’s hair.

changmin lifts both of his brows, and, cackling, kiyiya slaps him on the shoulder in a goodhearted manner, “welcome back to the family, changmin. we’ll find some time to talk among ourselves later.”

it takes hours of conversation, running around with min and jin, and takeout for dinner—courtesy of yunho for not being in the mood to cook after aforementioned running around with min and jin—but after jihye and kiyiya leave with twins for bed, changmin finally lets himself fall into an exhausted heap of limbs on the couch.

listening to stories about the last sixty something years—he refuses to acknowledge everyone’s less diluted blood line and use their way of aging because that would make jihye one hundred and eighty nine years old and gods be damned, he was born  _before_  her and therefor he is  _older_ —had been an emotional roller coaster, albeit a rewarding one. changmin rarely felt even the slightest bit awkward with them, his estranged family, and he’d even been more impressed by yunho’s willingness to play with the twins.

changmin has a sneaking suspicion that yunho didn’t go far from him through out the day so that he could remain as a support of sorts, in which changmin is grateful because he’ll be a liar if he says he didn’t need it at times. changmin adores jihye and kiyiya together, which only made him berate himself more for feeling that brief flicker of envy at their fortune and… normalcy. though kiyiya scolds jihye as much as he scolds min and jin—probably more—they’re both glaringly in love and happy with their family. nonetheless. it makes changmin smile. he can’t hope for more for jihye, not at all.

“you look tired,” yunho says, offering changmin a glass of wine. changmin accepts it with a grateful little sound and takes a light sip, the taste not even staying on his tongue.

“i had no clue that children take that much out of you. kiyiya mentioned that jihye’s pregnant again, and, really, i cannot see how they do it.” changmin says with a bemused smile. “i’d probably be a wreck.”

“you did well enough,” yunho chuckles. “you kept up with them all the while handling seeing jihye again. that alone is testament to your strengths.”

changmin slides his gaze to yunho. he knows subtly worded complements when he hears them; it’s an offer to share his feelings, and one he doesn’t think he’ll pass up. because he needs to, something he is sure that yunho probably senses.

“there were moments,” changmin admits, taking a longer sip of wine. “not many, and not because i miss being with jihye the way i used to be, but simply because it is strange, seeing her like this. i feel as if i fell behind somehow. i’m in college, and everyone has a family and a career, or is starting to settle. it’s just—it’s strange, yunho. i used to feel older with you and your family. in place. now i feel as if i’m—” changmin stops, unsure. a distant cousin being brought into the fold? an estranged kid brother and an outsider, someone that once belonged but does not quite fit well into the space they left behind anymore.

“it won’t always be this way. in time,” yunho offers quietly. “you’ll age differently than we will, and soon enough you’ll pursue marriage or a mate, and you’ll have an extended family to call your own.”

anticipation and fear slither down changmin’s spine at the idea of a family—a partner, kids of his own—it all seems so vast and far off, not to mention unlikely. even though he knows that the years will fly in less than a blink, he also knows that living day to day seems to take forever.

“one thing at a time,” changmin says finally, allowing a small smile. “school first, i want my degrees. maybe i’ll write a book, who knows,” he adds with a small laugh. “after the amount of work i put into to doing good in school, i won’t want to waste it.”

yunho eyes changmin for a moment, strangely, intently, and mutters, “odd little vampire,” before raising his glass of wine to him from his spot on the couch across the coffee table. changmin raises his glass in turn, tilts it just so before taking another sip.

“you’re an excellent uncle,” changmin says, purposely breaking the silence.

“they’re excellent children, despite their mother’s genetics.”

a hot bout of old, dormant anger hits changmin, sudden and at full force, an anger he hasn’t felt since the time he used to run the woods and help jihye hunt, from  _before_ , and he narrows his eyes at yunho. “are you seriously still going on about jihye being only half blooded—”

“you misunderstand, changmin. i am no longer two centuries old and unacceptably ignorant.” yunho gives a small laugh, mouth tilting into the ghost of a smirk. “i simply meant that my little sister is still a loud, hot headed, arrogant woman. the fact that she is half human has nothing to do with it.”

changmin stares for a solid four seconds, to which yunho states right back, and he simmers down, chips in from behind the rim of his glass. “i think the arrogance thing comes straight from your father. you’re both so full of sh—”

“careful.” yunho warns with a sly smile, eyes gleaming.

changmin raises an eyebrow, dares, “or what?” but steels up the second yunho arches his own brow in the way that changmin hates the most—the way that has a brick of anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach so instantly.

“no. no, you will  _not_  be showing up at my school again, no,” changmin says firmly, remembering the last time yunho even came close to his campus. it was raining that day, and yunho was kind enough to pick him up. it would’ve been a thoughtful gesture if not for—and this is a very huge if not for—if not for the fact that yunho had met him  _in_  the school, and now half of changmin’s professors are vying to get his number, if not a few of the students.

“i do believe i still owe you for hiding catnip in my room,” yunho sighs. it had been changmin’s childish response to the incident after a still unknown amount of girls from school had somehow acquired his phone number and called him at stupid hours of the night, looking for yunho.

“seraphina liked it,” changmin mumbles, sipping his wine.

“you ruined my bed.”

seraphina is rather sizeable when she shifts into her larger form, but changmin can’t seem to pass up this opportunity, gingerly examines his wineglass, says, “you wish it was me ruining your bed.”

yunho’s eyes widen by a fraction, bemused surprise, and if changmin wasn’t actually paying close attention, he would have missed it.

yunho leans forward, elbows to knees, and sets his glass down before fixing changmin with a stare he isn’t sure he wants to decipher.

“tell me,” yunho says slowly, absently fingering the stem of his wineglass, mouth turning up just a notch. “do your eyes really change color when you’re hungry?”

heat ricochets up changmin’s skin. from his scalp to his ears to his chest, he flushes, unbidden. his lips part, his heart skips, and he stammers, voice caught in a pitch too high, “w— _what_?”

yunho throws his head back and laughs, rises to a stand and starts his way toward and then up the stairs.

“two can play the game, changmin,” he says laugh dwindled down to a chuckle, then, just before closing the door to his room,

“don’t lose.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

“people are going crazy over sales back home today,” kiyiya gives a wistful sigh that has changmin’s brow going up. “i’ve never been more happy to be across the ocean, seriously, it’s madness over there. black friday is crazy.”

“i can only imagine. it’s been ages since i last touched foot in the americas, so i’m kind of out of the loop about it.” changmin laughs lightly. sometime during the day kiyiya managed to ease them away from jihye and yunho, completely leaving them to fend for themselves with the twins while they made time to bond. jihye had been relieved that changmin and kiyiya get along so well, and changmin can’t help but wonder if jihye was thinking about a time ago where someone else had her affections in his presence.

“you’re not what i expected, changmin.” kiyiya admits, moving to the side for a little kid on bike and keeping his gaze forward. “the way jihye describes you… she makes you sound like some kind of god, rising out of the water.”

“sorry to disappoint, though i think I’m fairly fortunate in concerns of the gene pool.”

“oh no, you’re gorgeous. i meant that you’re not as… wild, as she made you sound. not as fierce.”

“i would use the word  _primal_ , especially considering the circumstances then.” changmin ignores the complement and narrows his eyes, not sure if he’s insulted, but snorts when his mind produces the exact memory jihye must have told him of. “she told you about the hunting trip to the northern mountains, didn’t she.”

“she did. and i mean what i said mildly; you’re definitely a warrior, shim. i see the fire in you that she loves so much.” kiyiya gives changmin a small smile, eyes growing impossible darker. “forgive me that i’m thankful for what happened, changmin, i know it’s selfish.”

changmin stops in his tracks, seizing kiyiya’s gaze intensely when he stops in turn, knowing, allowing changmin to seek what it is he wants to find. slowly, changmin stares him down, his senses sharpen, and the city around them falls away. kiyiya’s scent sharpens in his nose, and changmin is pleased about what he finds in it: the truth. changmin knows from their brief friendship that kiyiya is a proud demon, rarely one to humble himself, and yet.

noise comes back to changmin’s ears, the world around them gains color again, and he returns kiyiya’s inquiring smile with a genuine one.

“i’m thankful, too. jihye found her happiness in you, a family. i couldn’t wish for anything more. i loved her more than i should have and she loved me back.” he admits, “i’m only partly vampire, so i am unsure how it works for full bloods, or those with regular half genes, but love like that doesn’t generally last among humans. humans change far too much far too quickly, and we might have ended up making one another miserable. so i’m glad it’s you, kiyiya. i’m joyful for the both of you.”

tension falls from kiyiya’s shoulders at the admission, he nods to changmin in understanding, and they continue their previous leisurely stride.

“she speaks so highly of you. i was fearful that perhaps you would resent our mating, resent me.”

offended, changmin’s brows snap down. “how could i resent someone i’ve never had the chance to meet for myself? i love jihye. i am not  _in_  love with jihye. she’s my bestfriend. after we were separated me wanting her to be happy never stopped. why would i ever resent someone who so obviously cares for her and loves her like she deserves?”

kiyiya’s gaze softens in a way that makes his eyes glint bright with the sun, and he shakes his head. “she also told me that you are one of the most unselfish people on the entirety of the earth. now i fully understand.”

“i am very greedy,” changmin rebuts, a sliver of vulnerability running down his spine at kiyiya’s knowing look. “my greed has nothing to do with being sane. or practical, for that matter.”

kiyiya hums, gently dismissing changmin in a way that reminds him too much of jihye, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes, failing, when kiyiya turns them into a small cafe and opens his mouth,

“so, any women in your life changmin? surely there is someone.”

“only if boa counts, which, let’s be clear here, she doesn’t,” changmin deadpans as they seat themselves and accept menu’s from the waiter.

“playing the field, then?”

“uh, the field of study. i’m a japanese literature student.”

“not even any men lurking around?” kiyiya chuckles, eyes roaming down the menu.

“any number of poets and intellectuals,” changmin snorts lightly. “not unless you count yunho, though he’s been pretty deep into his work lately, that and helping crystal with something or another. i just really, really don’t have time for pursuing another right now.”

“at the very least you have yunho. he is an unsettlingly fantastic cook.”

laughing, changmin sets his menu down. “now  _that_  you’re correct about. without him i’d probably eat one of my text books or starve until i triggered my hunger. there’s something i definitely don’t miss.”

“i wish jihye shared some of those culinary skills. the last time i let that girl play in the kitchen she turned frozen lasagna into a flaming brick. to the day i have no idea how she managed that.”

that image of that has changmin covering his mouth, laughing still when the waiter reappears to take their order. he almost choked on his water, and kiyiya orders for him instead.

 

* * *

 

jihye accepts the glass of wine with a grateful hum, looking for all the world like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. her concealment spell gone, she looks more the way changmin remembered her. different with time yet still the same, her eyes a darker gold than her brothers, wolf ears at alert atop her dark head and small, wispy markings along inner arms, a single northern star on her inner left wrist.

“kiyiya’s pretty amazing, we had an excellent time today,” changmin murmurs as he sits across from jihye, legs folded under him. jihye nods, the corner of her mouth rising a notch.

“he told me that he really likes you, that he could see what i meant when i’m continuously lamenting your existence.”

“and here i thought you’d be angry over all the times i’d ruined your dates with the neighboring wolves.” changmin laughs lightly, feeling exceptionally warm.

“i was trying to piss you off and it worked, so,”

an almost awkward silence settles over them, changmin more than sure jihye can hear the skip in his heart beat. he wants to say something but his tongue dries—this is the first time they have been alone together since jihye arrived and for all their shared past, changmin feels small with her, like a stumbling child, foolish and unaware.

“changmin?”

“mm?”

jihye makes an incredulous sound, looks back at changmin in disbelief when he arches a brow in question.

“this is ridiculous—you sound just like him!” jihye groans. “you’re even doing that damned eyebrow thing!”

“what the hell are you even talking about?” changmin laughs, at ease with the sudden change in jihye’s attitude—whiny, loud, complaining jihye is his forte. the mated, serious, soon to be mother of three is still a stranger to him.

“i’m talking about yunho. he always does that uninterested ‘mmm’ and you just did the eyebrow thing he does.” jihye points out, accusatory and the beginnings of a pout forming. “you’re totally turning into him.”

“we do spend a lot of time together,” changmin’s brow goes higher, and jihye rolls her eyes. changmin chuckles. “i live with him, jiji.”

“as long as you stay you and don’t turn into a mini version of him, then it’s fine.” jihye widens her eyes and raises her wine glass. “one is enough.”

“he’s different now, you know that. he’s really not as terrible as he used to be.”

“it was aella that changed him, a woman he fell for during his time in the south americas.” jihye starts, eyes dimming as she mentally withdraws, going somewhere else, resembling her brother as the memories come. “no one had to say a word. we all knew, despite how hard he tried not to show it. aella didn’t though, she didn’t make a single gander or guess. we expected yunho to become worse, or bitter after what happened, but no. it took centuries to get him this far, so i was insanely worried when i left him. i thought he’d revert.”

“it does make me sad for him, that he went through that,” changmin admits softly.

“having you around helps,” jihye sighs, running her hand down the length of her braid and undoing it; her hair falls like water around her, and changmin reminds himself to breathe. “even though yunho appears to be a complete loner, he’s more a creature of pack than i am, and i have children. yunho needs people to look after.”

“you calling me incapable?” changmin smiles from behind his glass of wine, aiming for a lighter mood. jihye gets more serious with every word, and changmin is not afraid to admit to himself that he is just not ready for that.

“i’m saying that you manage to get into more trouble that anyone i’ve ever known, and i know min and jin. yunho’s probably the only person in the world that can keep up with and your wild ways,” jihye snorts, easing up instantly.

mildly offended, changmin gingerly reaches over, grabs a couch pillow, and throws it at her. jihye bats it away with a roll of her eyes, then sobers once more.

“hey, min?” jihye asks quietly, leaning forward, rolling the wine glass stem between her fingers. changmin looks at her, takes in how she seems to want to curl in ok herself, and feels his teeth lengthen out of habit, preparing to ward off anything bothering her.

“what is it, jihye?”

“kiyiya wanted me to ask—i mean, it’s alright if you say no, we’d both completely understand, but, if you wanted to, we’d really love it—”

jihye stops and takes in a nervous breath, hear ears flattening down as she freezes, so still that changmin worries she’ll hurt herself trying to get the words out of her mouth.

“tell me,  _ai_.” changmin demands softly. jihye looks at him, kind of lights up at the old nickname. she swishes her wine and leans back.

“our kids, changmin. we would love for you to be the godfather.”

changmin’s world stills, tilts dangerously once again, and then tilts another time, “i would—” his throat closes, and he swallows thickly. “that would be nice, and i would be honored.”

changmin watches the weight lift from jihye’s shoulders, is forced to set his own wine glass aside as she crosses the table in a blur and makes herself at home in his lap. sighing, changmin thumbs a tear from jihye’s cheek, and hugs her close.

“thank you,” jihye whispers, voice thin. “it means the world to me.”

quiet, changmin lets jihye sit, the hold more than familiar as she lays her head on his shoulder. nostalgia wars with present day, and changmin tries to get a handle on how things have changed, and while jihye stays, he keeps it, needing the calm for as long as he sees her.

the silence between them settles, comfortable and light and welcome. the faint tang of salt hits the back of changmin’s nose, and he pulls away from jihye, looks at her and arches an eyebrow.

“are you seriously crying on my good sweater,” he deadpans, and, with a sniffle and an indignant little sound, jihye punches him in the chest hard enough to bruise, rises from her perch on his lap and puts a hand on her hip, the other wiping her face.

“fuck you, i don’t cry.”

“mm.”

“ _ugh_ you suck,”

changmin bares his teeth, canines lengthened and on display, and grins.

“that’s right.”

jihye raises both of her hands, notches her eyebrows, and flips him off before making her way to the door. “good _night_ , changmin.”

changmin leans back as the door clicks shut, takes a deep inhale through his mouth, trying to keep that calm. the air tastes like the smell of snow and nothingness, clean, and still, it feels as if a crack runs down his centre, begins to widen. an ache rings through his body. with a flourish changmin stands, heads for the stairs and takes them one by one, each step quicker than the last.

yunho says nothing when changmin opens the door to his bedroom without knocking, is quieter still when changmin slips in and closes it behind him, watches for a second as yunho turns a page in his book, and then climbs onto the bed to lay atop the comforter. yunho doesn’t utter a single sound when changmin curls against his side, or when he puts an arm around him, allowing changmin to snuggle deeper, and he is blessedly silent as changmin’s blood tainted tears start, quiet sobs muffled by the edge of yunho’s shirt.

the pages of yunho’s book rustle as he sets it down, instead curls his frame around changmin, like a wolf protecting it’s pup tends to do.

changmin finds yunho’s hand, gives it a gentle squeeze, a thank you for protecting him. a thank you for sheltering him so readily.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

paper scatters across the room, the sound of scissors cutting through it hardly audible over the bright sound of laughter. changmin smiles at his company, more than enjoying their time together as they wrap christmas presents. kiyiya, crystal and changmin’s father make light about the children who poke their heads in from time to time and the others—boa and jihye are so _childish_ —keep trying to take a sneak peak at the presents.

“they’re never going to grow up,” kiyiya huffs after shooing jihye away from the door for the nth time. “you think they would considering that they age the way they do.”

“we are not having the age conversation,” changmin says firmly, not resisting laughing at jihye’s antics, knowing that kiyiya’s found his match in every way.

“he’s right, though.” crystal says, taping a corner of bright red paper down. “they really don’t.”

changmin tsks. “boa’s a full blooded fox, they’re entirely different.”

“doubt it,” kiyiya snorts. “canines are canines.”

changmin’s father speaks up with laughter in his voice, tall frame poised with mirth, eyeing the work of his wrapped box speculatively. “your mother was much the same.”

“yeah, but i mean—” changmin stops, wanting to say that yunho would never do such a thing, but the thought of it sends a sliver of sadness across his chest. the others notice, and the same, almost sympathetic look crossing their faces makes him slightly annoyed.

“i’m sure he’ll be back in time,” kiyiya assures him. “he never takes very long when it comes to the council. he tries not to let it show but he completely hates their guts.”

“mm. it’s nothing.” changmin cuts through paper decorated in shimmery snowflakes, suddenly noting how overly domestic he’s become since reuniting with his old wolven family. he gives a bright smile, derails that vaguely disturbing thought, and looks down at yunho’s christmas present beneath his hands. it’s wrapped perfectly, but, “dad, how do you get your ribbons to curl that way? this is about to drive me crazy.”

allowing the change in subject, changmin’s father settles him with a knowing look, his clear eyes bright. “like this,” he says, rolling out a slither of ribbon and expertly cutting through the end, the ribbon curling perfectly. changmin repeats the motion, his own silver ribbon curling almost as well.

“parents just seem to know these things,” kiyiya says as crystal battles with her own gift box, the wrapping paper not folding the way she wants it to.

“dear elder gods, _children_.” crystal groans.

“you’re not even mates yet, don’t stress about it.” changmin laughs lightly, guessing the thoughts running through crystal’s mind. “boa will want time for just you before children are even thought of coming into the mix.”

“i sincerely hope so?” crystal sighs. “i was a hellion as a child, and my family always used to tell me that your children are worse than you.”

changmin snorts, arching an eyebrow. “if that were true then there wouldn’t be any piece of japan left standing.”

“oh, there’s still a huge chance, just you wait!” kiyiya jokes, eyes glinting with laughter, then, “your ears are pierced, right changmin?”

changmin blinks at the left filed question. “yeah,” he says slowly, absently tucking his hair and running a finger down his left lobe, the four discernible dips in the skin on display. “just the left one. why?”

“no reason,” kiyiya grins, to which changmin raises a brow, shrugs and goes back to wrapping when kiyiya once again turns to the door to once again shoo away jihye.

in time the presents become wrapped and placed securely under the tree. noon passes, the sun dips, the stars come out, and dinner goes by. crystal and boa leave to their own level with sultry twitches in their unconcealed tails and vaguely hurried murmurs of departure. kiyiya takes jihye and their twins for bed. changmin settles his sisters into the second guest room for the night, finds his father by his lonesome down stairs and with the lights dimmed.

his father looks out the windows at the sparkling world below them, his face reflecting in the glass, features smooth, forever frozen at the age of thirty six.

“i am still not used to it,” changmin laughs quietly as he walks over to his father, a glass of blood spiked eggnog in hand; he hates the taste and smell of the drink on it’s own, but the wonders that the a-b negative yunho makes a point to keep in the fridge do. around them had been chaos as his sisters, jiyeon and sooyeon, had gave into their childish urges, chasing min and jin and merrily, excitedly, calling them ‘cousin’.

hours before jihye had been standing where changmin currently stood, holding kiyiya’s hand as he spoke with boa’s newly arrived brothers, who in turn had argued the finer points of canine relations with them in a quiet voice. changmin’s grandfather, who’d been flown over from japan for the occasion, frozen at twenty nine and more withdrawn, hadn’t seemed to know what to do with himself, and had made himself busy with one of yunho’s older volumes on one of the couches. niri, one of boa’s sibling’s mate, kitsune herself, had made merry with crystal kay, banded together with boa, sharing stories and showing tiny fire tricks when the children had bothered to pay attention.

chaos it had been, but changmin appreciates having had the usually quiet apartment filled with people, the noise filling the open space and closing the walls in, making it feel more home than it ever had.

“it’s strange, coming to see you here, to see all of them—” changmin’s father begins, hazel eyes looking around to take everything in, the color the same from when he was born. “it is rather nice, though.”

“very,” changmin takes a tiny, distracting sip from his glass, mirth in his tone. “holidays will be much livelier from here on out.”

changmin’s father looks at him, hard and assessing, eyes, for a brief moment, seeming to crinkle around the edges with age. dauntless, unafraid, and more amused than anything else, changmin takes another sip of his eggnog, very pointedly arches an eyebrow.

“you are happier here.” changmin’s father says finally, mouth tilting in a smile, features smoothing again.

“it’s nice being around the others, having them back and knowing that they do not resent me for—” stopping, changmin sucks in a breath between his teeth, lengthened and nicking at the inside of his lips. “it’s nice to live with yunho and boa. it’s not as lonely.”

“i know,” changmin’s father says sagely. “should your sisters be doing anything else but being loud with their dance and singing practice, i might have made myself scarce.”

“they need to find their way, too.” changmin says with a small laugh, seeing the apologetic crease of his father’s brow for what it really is. “i’m more focused here, yunho quite enjoys discussing my studies with me. helps me remember.”

“still odd, that you live with another man and—”

“yunho and i are friends, dad. it would be the same if i needed a roommate and he applied. we live together. that’s it.” changmin rebuts firmly. “actually, i find that this is better. yunho is understanding, and more often than not we find ourself lamenting over the past. it is good to get it out.”

“well,” changmin’s father turns his eyes back to the window, hands clasping behind his back, tone genuine. “i’m glad that you have people that truly understand. it is still new to me as it was then, this pack thing you’ve reassimilated into.”

“don’t worry, dad. me too.” changmin sighs, though he fully acknowledges that he had fallen into it quite eagerly, the old ache and pain ruling his human blood and henceforth fueling his every decision. each day in yunho’s home—“our home,” yunho calls it—makes him forget more and more what it’s like to not necessarily be alone, but _without_ pack. a mere two months have passed, and changmin cannot imagine living on his own again, not the way he was before.

“min, juice?” jiyeon calls, brown eyes twinkling in the low light as she peeks down over the landing rail. changmin nods at her, smiling at her childish inquire.

“sure, kid. just a second.”

“oh, now you _know_ she misses you.” changmin’s father laughs quietly, shakes his head and spares a last glance out the window. “i’m going to bed. today has been too long and i’m getting too old.”

“…. you’re thirty-six and _immortal_ —”

“hush, boy.”

changmin laughs, accepting his father’s hug before he turns to go up the stairs. changmin’s grandfather follows, and jiyeon passes them on their way up as she comes down.

changmin looks at her, sipping his ruddy eggnog. “what?”

“juice,” she says, taking his free hand and steering him towards the kitchen.

“you’re seventeen.” changmin sighs dramatically, opening the fridge and pouring her a glass anyway. “why can’t you get your own juice.”

jiyeon accepts the glass gratefully. “i would,” she takes a drink, let’s her shoulders sag happily. “always tastes better when you pour it.”

the words come out kind of tight. changmin meets his sisters stare with one of his own, his mouth turning down just slightly. their father is right. jiyeon misses him, and anyone can see it in the lines of her body.

“don’t look like that.” jiyeon finishes, tilting the glass all the way back and sighing contentedly. she puts the glass in the sink, runs a bit of water. “we don’t miss you _that_ much.”

“brat.”

“asshole.”

“ _woah_ , easy,” changmin’s brows shoot up, his mouth splitting into a grin that jiyeon mirrors. “you definitely miss me, but tonight’s not a night for a wrestling match. not that you’d even win.”

jiyeon rolls her eyes. “puh-lease, you couldn’t even land a hi— _ow_.”

a small clean cut opens across jihye’s wrist, knits over and closes as quickly as it appeared.

“pinned ya,” changmin says matter of factly, sauntering over to the couches, catching jihye when she rounds the kitchen counter and tries to tackle him. he laughs, a full, shaking thing, and throws her trough the air toward the stairs, delighted in her indignant shriek.

changmin watches with keen eyes as jiyeon’s hand wraps around the rail, legs folding under her in a quick-fast perch, eyes wide and ponytail a mess. she looks harried, like a cat who can’t believe what just happened, and from where he stands, changmin can tell that her teeth have lengthened.

“chang _min_!”

“pinned ya again,” changmin snorts, waving a dismissive hand. “it’s late and you’re loud. go to bed.”

gingerly getting down and quickly inspecting the metal railing for any sort of damage, jiyeon gives him a speculative look.

“you waiting up?”

“mm.”

“want some company?”

“i’m good jiyeon, i have reading to catch up on anyway.” changmin tells her with a smile. his sister gives him a long, hard stare that reminds him of too much of himself, then bounces her shoulders in a shrug, heading up the stairs.

“if he said he’d try to make it,” jiyeon calls, still climbing. “i don’t see him missing it.”

“he has things he needs to see to.”

“he is a lot like his sister, only more. don’t worry, min. he’ll be here.”

the door to the guestroom clicks shut, and changmin stands, warmed by his sister’s certainty as he looks back out the window, watching planes go by in the distance. he tries not to wonder if yunho is on board for each one.

humming minutely to himself changmin makes himself busy, clearing the tables of left out fruit platters and cookies, storing everything away in the fridge for the morning. he lets his mind stay carefully blank as he loads the dishwasher, uncaring that he is so avidly listening for the sound of the front door.

changmin dries his hands when he’s done, thrum of the dishwasher fading into the background as he scopes the living room for any type of mess. he finds himself at the christmas tree, lights glancing off the glass tables and windows, sparkling against the ornaments.

boa had made it her duty to make the tree perfect, using her magic to float the twins and changmin’s sisters into the air so that they could easily twine the lights around it, toss the silvery tinsel with childish abandon. even still changmin can see glittery spots where pieces of tinsel had landed, some not even remotely close to the tree.

he leaves the tinsel be, mentally noting to vacuum after tomorrow, and sits down in front of the tree, stares up at it.

changmin’s old family star is sitting atop it proudly, nearly eleven feet in the air, reflecting the lights. under the muted hum of the dishwasher he briefly imagines a clock ticking like back home, a slightly out of bounds notion, because yunho does not like ticking clocks, the noise of it grates on his sensitive ears.

changmin looks at yunho’s present next, wrapped in blue snowflake paper, bow curling as perfect as he could manage to get it.

as per his usual, changmin had taken up to tutoring others so that he could get a present for everyone—pointedly ignoring the very sleek, very _black_ credit card yunho had given him by shoving it to the bottom of his drawer to never be looked at again—and yunho’s present alone had been the one he mentally agonized over. getting presents for the others was simple and easy, but what do you give someone who already has everything? changmin makes a sound in the back of his throat, counting himself lucky that he had had enough energy to walk into one last place and then strike gold. yunho’s gift is custom made, hand crafted and by far the most expensive, but changmin is proud of it, and a small sliver of anxiousness flies through him at the thought of yunho’s reaction to the gift.

sighing, ignoring the faint, tell tale sting starting in the back of his eyes, changmin lays on his front, folds his arms and rests his head there, gaze still locked onto the present’s reflecting the lights in the tree.

the anxiety unfolds harshly, constricting his chest, and changmin growls lowly, upset with himself because he knows the council meeting had been called in as an emergency, upset with himself because he’s become so vigorously _attached_.

changmin presses his face against his arms, forcing his breathing back to normal as he stills, counts to one hundred and then back.

he realizes that he’d fallen asleep while counting backwards, something shifting him lightly into awareness. the sleep doesn’t surprise him as much as the bright, glowing amber eyes looking down at him with unsure concern do.

“oh.” changmin says, groggy. “you made it.”

yunho’s look turns into something changmin can’t bother to decipher. “i gave you my word that i would try to.”

“i hadn’t thought—”

“i highly rarely fail at anything i attempt,” yunho chuckles as changmin sits up, crossing his legs to sit. knowing, yunho folds his legs under him, takes up the space to his side.

“it’s colorful.” yunho says, looking at the tree curiously. the tree had been picked the day after he left by crystal, and changmin supposes that yunho might find it too much, despite how his smile appears genuine.

“my sisters and the twins love it, boa and crystal too. kiyiya’s family doesn’t celebrate christmas, so i expect they’ll be coming here from now on.”

“good,” yunho says matter of factly. “it’s not a bad thing. i’ve been trying to get jihye to bring them more often for years. packs need times like this, holidays. children, too.”

“they definitely do. crystal kay about had a panic attack thinking about having boa’s kids.”

“i believe they will wait. they’re young still.”

changmin nods silently, eyes on the tree, sleep riddling through his body. he sluggishly sifts through his thoughts, the quiet cozy.

“yunho?” changmin asks after another moment.

“mm?”

changmin sucks a breath through his teeth, not recalling when they had lengthened, and exhales it slowly. “i’m glad you’re here, that you made it back. it wouldn’t feel right if you weren’t.”

tired, comfortable, changmin leans against yunho’s shoulder. contact between them over the past two months has since lost it’s strangeness, and funnily enough, yunho is kind of touchy. changmin himself does not care for too much of it, rare is he to initiate anything, but he never rebuffs any of yunho’s passing advances into his personal space. it’s the same now, as yunho lifts an arm to wrap around changmin’s shoulder, warm, allowing changmin to lean into him.

“you’ve been crying,” yunho observes casually, to which changmin makes a noncommittal sound, truth dinging in him with sleep blanketing his mind.

“i was afraid you wouldn’t make it home.”

“the council is aware of the consequences that come with wasting my time.”

“was there a problem?”

“a couple of eurasian lycans revealed themselves, got captured by an odd group of human scientists, and were experimented on. apparently the humans that took them wanted to broaden their borders and thought that using demonic dna to engineer an army would be an excellent idea.”

changmin wakes up a little, brows knitting as he looks up at yunho, guilt touching down in his gut. “how can you possibly classify that as a waste of time?”

“because the matter was easily fixed, a simple situation compared to the others i’ve delt with. demon existence is kept secret for a reason, and the one’s who were involved, along with the human counterparts, were taken care of with the most basic of tactics.”

“but if they knew—”

“i’m sure that you know there are kinds of us that have abilities to alter memory, especially after you told me of your run in with a nasty swamp nymph during your travels in finland. they’re pure fae, mostly, and those that revealed themselves are going to be handled by them before the sun dares to rise.”

changmin makes a low sound as he blinks slow, gives a momentary pause, not in the mood for the thought of those that can easily make one forget their entire existence. the idea alone evokes unwanted memories.

“a decision was actually made yesterday. just a matter of the council dragging out the niceties, none of which i care for.”

“oh,” changmin finally relaxes. “if something ever occurs again, don’t skip it. the safety of the entirety of our kind is more important than a holiday i do not even celebrate.”

yunho makes a strange noise at that, one that doesn’t care to fully understand.

“jihye is showing. kiyiya says it’s just a boy this time.” changmin tells him, drifting.

“my sister is spreading her genes further and further,” yunho says wryly. changmin makes his own little sound, gives him a smack on the knee to which yunho just chuckles.

“you’re awful.” changmin reprimands, matter of fact, not bothering to hide his own laughter.

“go to bed little vampire. the sun will rise soon enough.”

changmin snorts, standing and stretching. “yes, alpha.”

yunho’s mouth turns up, the nickname more of a petulant tease now than anything, used only when he tells changmin to do something. yunho stands as well, and changmin notes that his concealment is gone, leaving the christmas lights reflecting in the bright amber of his eyes, to shine against his perfectly, purposely ruffled hair. changmin gives into a urge, blames his affectionate state on his tiredness, and hugs yunho because he can.

“bed.” yunho rumbles, deep, voice ladled with a sleepiness that makes it just a tinge raspy.

changmin steps back from his warmth, gives into a childish moment and makes a face at him before taking off toward the stairs with a burst of energy, because no way is he getting caught in a war with yunho at two twelve in the morning.

 

* * *

 

changmin wakes to two bouncing bundles of wolf that send him flying off of his bed in a tangle of sheets, both screaming in a pitch that makes his teeth stab right through his gums. groggy, disoriented, offended, changmin clutches the blankets, willing the early light away for another five minutes, maybe five hours. persistent tugs and impatient, childish growls. if changmin was coherent he might care about how odd his sudden new title sounds. but he’s not, and he just wants to sleep.

“láymut tl’álk hurry up!” min insists as she bounces on the edge of the bed, eyes bright tin excitement to the point of pale, own little canines peeking through her grin. “even uncle yunho is downstairs already!”

changmin blinks, vision blurry, brows raising. “láymut tl’álk?” he imitates gingerly, thinking on what little kiyiya had taught him of his native tongue, then frowning when he pieces the sounds together, slow in his fatigue. “youngest deer? did your mom tell you to call me that—”

“unimportant!” jin huffs, reaching for changmin’s hair. “presents! presents!”

“no.” changmin bats the child away and falls back into his blankets, sleep flooding back instantly. “five minutes.”

the twins stare at him, affronted, offense filtering over their tiny faces in unison, and changmin’s eyes widen a fraction when their identical features steel over in childish determination. min and jin open their mouths, inhale.

“no. no,” changmin glares at them. “if you scream i will—”

air wooshes out of changmin’s lungs. he bolts upright, tries to anyway. min is sitting on his stomach, mouth pitched in a half frown half pout that she could have only perfected by watching her mother. changmin narrows his eyes at her, then at jin who’s poised at the edge of the bed, ready to jump.

“i will throw you down the stairs.” he threatens, gently, says matter of factly, half awake, hair everywhere and curling wildly about his jaw, adding to his seriousness. he bares his teeth at the twins. “i will throw you down the stairs—”

“changmin!” his father’s voice calls, amused and exasperated, impatient.

changmin groans internally, only vaguely annoyed at the looks of triumph min and jin beam at him. “coming,” changmin calls back, sighing and untangling himself from his blankets.

“you wouldn’t really throw us down the stairs would you láymut tl’àlk?” jin asks casually, too casual as he and his sister lead changmin from the room before he can change his mind and fall back into a dead sleep.

“of course not.” changmin says flatly, picking min up at her request and using his free hand to carve through jin’s lengthening hair. “no, never.”

changmin swears he hears “liar,” muttered at him from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.

“finally!” jihye and jiyeon shout as changmin comes down the last of the stairs, one twin in the crook of his arm and the other glued to his leg. changmin rubs his eyes and glares at his little sister, eyes playfully blank, because sleepy doesn’t make for good intimidation.

“presents,” sooyeon carefully reminds everyone, picking out a red wrapped box from under the tree and then passing it to kiyiya. changmin finds himself twin free in less than a second as they dive under the tree, boa and crystal kay and jihye, too.

changmin makes a small, tired, indifferent sound in his throat as he makes his way to the couch, ambles ungracefully over the edge and curls up next to yunho. he ignores how his grandfather makes an _i told you so_ face to his father.

“we’ve never done this before, and i have the strongest feeing that it’s going to spread through the pack back home like wildfire,” kiyiya says absentmindedly, carefully unwrapping a gift from boa.

“your mother is going to kill you,” boa’s brother snickers, green eyes glinting with mischief.

“no doubt,” kiyiya sighs. “the pups will enjoy it, though.”

rotation begins as presents are diligently passed out by changmin’s sisters and the twins, they themselves tearing through the wrapping of their own gifts without mercy, putting even jihye to shame as she tore through hers at a more sedate pace.

changmin goes through his gifts with meticulous care, making sure to lee his wrapping confined to a single couch cushion and keeping the gifts with their respectful boxes. his sisters picked out a frame, tacked with a note stating exactly what to use it for. boa’s brothers gift him with a set of intricate combs and traditional hairpins; they’re dappled in silvers and sapphires, and he has to pause to raise an eyebrow—they tell him it’s because of his hair and that, as a member of the kitsune family it’s only appropriate to have, and, “alright but most importantly they match your wicked eye color!”—he appreciates them nonetheless, despite how he itches to give them back. jihye and kiyaya with gift him with earrings, all interlinked with a silver chain braided with a thinner light blue one, and his grandfather’s gifted him a strange array of pressed flowers encased in glass, gently pulsing with magic, and if he knows his grandfather there is no doubt that it’s some relic that he’s to figure out eventually. he notes with no small amount of annoyance that yunho’s mouth tugs into a prominent, amused smirk at the encased flowers.

yunho’s present to changmin makes it’s way through his hands last, and he stares at it, wide out and mouth parted in surprise when he unwraps the shiny black and blue box to reveal a scroll set gingerly in black velvet. the characters are japanese and they are _old_ , but changmin reads them with ease, and then by heart because he’s studied them for so long. the weight of the parchment is dangerously light in his hands, too light for something so important.

“ _what is said brings dread in this land, in scarlet colors, don’t go out, die from your desire though you might_.” changmin says the words quietly, to himself almost, unable to take his eyes from the scroll even as he asks, heart speeding just so, “yunho, how did you get this?”

“santa never tells,” yunho laughs lowly as he at last reaches for his own present, the one changmin had commissioned. changmin finally pauses in his shocked admiration as yunho unwraps the paper of his gift carefully and opens the wooden box the artist stored it in, swathed in smooth silver silk. with a silent inhale changmin closes the scroll as yunho begins to gingerly undo the silk, as little by little the intricately carved statue is exposed, it’s obsidian and translucent red stone glimmers in the morning light.

“oh.” yunho says, hands hovering. “this is—” his eyes are caught on the black and copper wolf with bright yellow eyes that seemingly glow from within, so resembling himself in his natural state. “it’s magnificent, changmin. thank you.”

their moment is quiet and unnoticed as changmin murmurs a merry christmas to yunho, entire pack caught up in their own moments, changmin’s sisters and jihye snapping pictures everywhere.

“alright then, so, who’s going to help me cook?” jihye asks in turn to the twin’s insists t inquires about breakfast. changmin stands in unison with crystal kay, boa, and his sisters, earning a round of snickers, and changmin once again finds himself in an overly, but not unenjoyed, domestic situation. there’s food already started, and changmin wonders if he had really been sleep so long that his best friend had actual time to prepare an entire two hams. the kitchen turns into a whirlwind of activity in minutes, all dancing around each other in their tasks and changmin being unofficially appointed into the “hey, can you get this down for me,” position. he doesn’t mind it though, just lets himself enjoy the sense of _normality_ as his family celebrates in union.

normality, changmin thinks as he absently stirs something in a mixing bowl, thinking of how he tossed jiyeon, of the twins and their bussing canines, the sensitive ears as the underpaying itch of _thirst_ making itself prominent, too long since he last hunted.

normality?

changmin startles, min and jin an inhuman blur as they run through the kitchen, laughing as they dart between legs, chasing one another.

maybe not.

 

* * *

 

“i’m impressed that they managed to walk after indulging so much.” yunho murmurs as he closes and locks the front door, the sound almost too loud in their now quiet apartment. jihye had taken the twins and her husband to the suite below, crystal kay and boa long gone with a claim of time for themselves, boa’s brothers half way across the world be now, changmin’s own family the last to have head out, his father and sister practically having to drag jiyeon out of the door, followed behind their grandfather, who tsked the entire time.

changmin can’t help the easy smile determined to stay tugging at his mouth as he starts at the dishes and left overs.

“i’ve never had a favored holiday before, seems that’s changed now.” changmin tells yunho, thinking of the picture of the pack he had managed to snap, perfect for the frame his sisters had gifted him. “it was a good day.”

“it definitely wasn’t awful,” yunho replies as changmin closes the dishwasher. changmin throws a dish towel at him in vague exasperation.

“you can just admit that you had fun for once.”

“i am a king, little vampire. i do not have fun.” yunho intones, just a tinge of au dement coloring the flat lilt of his voice and his faux mask of apathy.

“right, and you don’t breathe, eat, or sleep. silly of me, demons of your stature never do anything is lesser immortals do.”

“that is correct.” yunho says in an even voice, mouth twitching.

“so should i flee the great wolf’s demise, escaping immortal peril,” changmin jests stiffly, stepping in the direction of the stairs.

“i will catch you,” yunho warns casually.

changmin snorts, “yunho you’re ancient, as if you could catch me,” and makes a break for the railing, twisting carefully onto it in a perfect imitation of his sister and flashing a toothy grin, before turning and bolting, because he is a child.

yunho allows him a beat, eyes positively glowing, an illusion of the possibility of making it, breaks it in the same second and pounces, landing before changmin with too much grace and capturing him in an iron grip, easily lifting him from the ground and carrying him through the house, ignoring changmin’s indignant remarks.

“oh nooo,” changmin flails dramatically, deadpan, nearly breathless in his laughter. “put me down you wild, wild animal.”

“as you wish it,” yunho chuckles without mirth as he drops changmin onto one of the living room couches. changmin falls into the movement and rolls, lands leaning into the arm of the couch and reclining.

“still ancient,” he mutters, grinning.

“and you are young yet.”

“for a human i am in my prime,” changmin shoots out, a reminder, brows going up.

“and for a pure bred i am in mine,” yunho blinks at him.

“oh. really?” changmin’s eyes widen, and yunho pauses, watching him curiously before sitting across him on the couch, their plans of cleaning up forgotten.

“pure bred.” yunho states plainly.

“i know, i suppose i didn’t exactly notice, especially because of,” changmin makes a vague gesture. “jihye’s own human blood, though you mentioned mating marks once.”

“jihye will age as kiyiya does, since he has the dominant blood in their mark. by the time they were mates jihye was just shy of being as old as myself.”

“just shy?”

yunho gives an elegant shrug. “give or take four centuries worth of time.”

“four centuries. you say that as if it’s normal.”

“it is, changmin,” yunho levels him a careful, pinning look.

“right.” changmin filters through his thought from earlier in the day, mouth tilting down a tad, then. “what about boa.”

“she’s kitsune. we were born in the same season but she is considered young, still.”

“so. your prime, huh?” changmin asks, gingerly rising from the couch, ignoring the feel of yunho’s eyes boring into him as he casually edges towards the kitchen.

“yes.”

“seem a bit slow to me,” changmin moves in a way that makes his frame thrum, quick, jumping the back of a couch and dodging the corner of a coffee table as he makes for the kitchen. yunho is half a step behind him, and changmin spins on his heel, hands already at the sink and turning the water, nozzle for the hose gripped firm as he pressed the sprayer down.

triumph sings through changmin as yunho stands there, shocked into stillness, hair dripping wet, shirt soaked, lashes dotted with water droplets.

“see, alpha,” changmin smiles, sickly sweet and vampiric. “slow ”

yunho reaches past changmin and turns the water off, slowly removes the hose from his hand. yunho makes an almost inaudible sound. changmin’s hands twitch, empty, and in the same second, twice in the same day, air is wooshed from his lungs. changmin yelps, finger’s gripping at the back of yunho’s shirt, watches the apartment zip by in a blur that makes him dizzy as yunho jumps onto the second floor landing and strides toward the heat bathroom.

“yunho.” changmin kicks his legs, silver of his silk pajama bottoms swishing as he pats yunho on the back to grab his attention, back pedals, scrambles, panics a little. “yunho i’m sorry it was a joke,” he tries. “yun _ho_.”

yunho says nothing, and changmin almost resorts to pleading as he tossed into the shower, left to scramble for the glass door when he sees yunho turn all the knobs, but yunho tsks, is suddenly on the other side of the glass, and changmin yells, indignant as he’s blasted then blasted with cold water. his voice echoes throughout the stall, pitched high in a shriek he won’t admit to later.

changmin pulls at the door, but yunho leans against it, holding it just with a shoulder and a smile on his face.

“jung yunho! let me out of here!” changmin shouts, hoping he hurts yunho’s ears. yunho doesn't move, and changmin turns the knobs off, mouth pulled in a snarl.

“let me out, yunho.”

“have you learned your lesson?”

“what, that you’re ancient _and_ a sore loser? absolutely.”

the water turns on full blast, somehow colder than before, and changmin gives a muted yell from behind closed lips and clenched teeth. how in the hell did he _do_ that—

changmin shivers violently, and he feels the tale tell prick of his blood reacting beneath his skin. he lets out an almost desperate breath, and bangs on the glass, voice gone hoarse as pain shocks up his bones.

“lesson?”

changmin almost growls, stops. if yunho can’t already tell what’s happening then he doesn’t need to know, and changmin doesn’t want to tell him.

“you’re not ancient.” changmin snaps out impatiently. he’ll play along, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “please, it’s freezing,” changmin says, voice going quiet, teeth lengthening in reaction to the icy water seeping into his skin. the spray turn off and yunho steps back as he opens the glass door. changmin zips by him, darting for a towel and wrapping himself in it, taking a deep breath as he wills his body to return to its normal temperature. 

“you’re still a sore loser.” he tells yunho flatly, gaining some semblance of mirth from yunho’s own soaked appearance. 

“only so much is required,” yunho chuckles.

changmin stands in the at the sink and makes quick work of his curling locks, briefly catches yunho’s almost curious gaze in the mirror.

“vampires are cold already, yunho. weather doesn’t bother us too much, but cold water will literally freeze us into stillness. that was mean.”

“what?” yunho asks, and changmin pauses and the genuine surprise there in his tone. 

“cold water. hurts. freezes,” changmin laughs lightly. “forget it. i was going to change anyway.”

silent, yunho takes another towel from the rack and drapes it across changmin’s shoulders, guides him down the hall and to changmin’s door. 

“change,” yunho demands, voice almost strained. changmin opens his mouth to tell him not to worry, it’s clear he didn’t know, it was an accident, but there is a conflicted, painful emotion darkening yunho’s face, and changmin clicks his mouth shut, nods instead. 

the door clicks behind him quietly, and changmin’s worry overshadows the warmth that spreads through him as he sees all of his presents stacked neatly on his bedside table, until he glances yunho’s gift to him. not wanting to dare get it wet, changmin dries and changes quickly, ignoring the obscene splat of his clothes as the land directly into his hamper. 

changmin is warm and comfortable in old sweats and a hoodie, his hair still damp as he uses one of the sapphire laden hair combs from boa’s brothers to sweep it up, huffing when his fringe refuses to cooperate and curls in too long tendrils about his jaw. he takes the scroll in a careful grip and heads down stairs. yunho is there already, changed into his emerald pajamas and leaning into the back of the couch with a book from changmin’s father. 

“what do you think of it?” changmin asks as he sits across from yunho, legs folding under him out of habit. 

“your father is kind to think of me. i’m not one to indulge in thrillers, so i’m curious on what this will be like.” yunho looks up from his book, and changmin raises a brow when he just seems to… stop, as his eyes seem to darken just so.

“what?” changmin spares a glance around the house, makes a note to finish cleaning up, but noting out of their ordinary catches his attention. he follows yunho’s gaze instead, and ends up touching the juncture of his neck, fingers splaying against his jaw, bare with his hair up, skin still a little wet from being thrown into the shower. “what?” 

“mmn.” yunho finally hums after a second, eyes sliding back to his book, mouth pressed thin. 

changmin resists the urge to go and check himself in the mirror and shrugs a shoulder, focuses on his scroll. “my father was at a bit of a loss on what to get one such as yourself. i couldn’t think of anything either.”

“your gift is—” yunho looks up again, halting, and then slowly offers a small smile. “it doesn’t shrink me as something simply picked.” he finishes it. 

“that’s because i had it made,” changmin laughs lightly, smoothing his fingers over the delicate paper in his lap. “i found the sculptors shop by chance, and her work is wonderful, like she knows about our kind, has _seen_ like some humans can. i just explained what i wanted and, well.”

“it’s a beautiful piece. i have never received christmas presents before, but your is—nothing i would have expected, changmin. thank you.”

“now that you know my secret,” changmin mutters forcing his ears not to turn warm as he holds up his scroll. “tell me where you got this? it’s—”

“an original copy. there are demons in your father’s land—youkai as i’m sure you know they’re called, that collect rare texts. i persuaded this particular youkai to part with it.”

“an original?” changmin whispers, eyes gaining a brighter spark of awe. “yunho this is too—”

“perfect for you. stop setting yourself up for cut offs.” yunho interrupts, teeth flashing. “it also retains the spell used to preserve it. you may read it without fear of it disintegrating into dust.”

changmin holds the scroll close to him, and is suddenly finding himself fighting the urge to cry yet again. yunho has already given him everything, _everything_ , and he still finds a way to give him more. changmin makes a small, careful, low pitched growling sound in his throat, and yunho’s brows raise to his hairline, surprises clear even as he turns back to his book. 

“did jihye teach you that?” he asks casually. 

“a long time ago,” changmin confirms, thankful of his enhanced memory. saying thank you so plainly seems out of place, but saying it to yunho in a way he instinctively understands? changmin smiles at yunho’s twitching smile, and turns his attention to his gift, pleased at the vividness of the ink and the suppleness of the parchment. preserved. the logical part of changmin’s mind, the scholar in him, practically howls as his hands grace the surface of the paper and trace the lines of olden characters.  

“a blue mountain with drifting cloud, how plainly you do smile at me, let not others see. sea-girt peaks stand in our way, so why should it be that a glimpse and a word alone should come so early?” changmin murmurs, fingers still tracing the words lightly. 

yunho says nothing as he watches from the corner of his eye, satisfied that changmin is delving into the text of the scroll as he himself goes back to his book. 

the evening turns darker still outside. changmin loses himself in the brushstrokes, and yunho flips through his thriller. 

normal, changmin thinks absently. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hny ♥

  
  
  
  
changmin presses his thumb to the spot between his eyes, hard, elbow digging into the cafe’s high table as he attempts to keep the headache trying to bloom there away.  
  
“i do not want to go to another party.” he says crisply, exasperated, doing his best not to growl as victoria pleads and attempts to coax him on another night out.  
  
it’s been months and victoria is completely unaware of changmin’s move as of yet, and changmin isn’t sure how much longer he cares to keep the secret. especially if it makes victoria _shut up_. as it is, changmin no longer lives as far from the campus and it’s hot spots as he once did, and he’s wary that victoria is going to offer him a ride due the storm forming so quick. changmin can feel it from inside; the way the scent of the air sharpens, the building pressure that raises his hair on end, the subtle quietness of the little animals that live in the city, unnoticed by humans. it makes him anxious. afraid.  
  
he _hates_ thunderstorms.  
  
“i swear it won’t be like before. the asshole you told me about somehow ended up in the hospital the same night. turns out someone decided to stick up for you. he didn’t dish out who it was though.” victoria tells him, playing with her hair. “he said it was a demon, but as far as i can remember you were the only one dressed up supernaturally that night. didn’t know arms could even break that way.”  
  
changmin looks at victoria, his teeth starting to ache at her ranting. he opens his mouth, annoyed and offended and with a few choice words to say, but he snaps his jaw shut as a wave of pain knocks through his skull with the thunder that rolls in from the distance. he presses his thumb to his forehead harder still, seizing his thoughts. he does not want to remember that night. that or the fact that yunho had decided to so viciously exact retribution on his behalf.  
  
“i do not want to go to another party, victoria. i have plans for tonight.” changmin turns the lie over on his tongue, the taste of it unusually angry as he thinks. he’s not even sure if yunho is previously engaged for the night, but changmin knows that he will be happier with sitting at home curled up with seraphina than going down to hyunwoo’s for another hellish experience victoria so casually dubs “party.”  
  
“c’mon min! it’s new years eve. besides, don’t you want a new years kiss or something?”  
  
“a what.”  
  
“lip locking at the minute of midnight! you could probably use one. it’s supposed to bring you luck in love for the next year.”  
  
“victoria, please.” changmin complaines, tired. “i do not need any luck in love. if i need luck anywhere it’s in school and dealing with the men and women that are already in my life.”  
  
victoria rolls her eyes. “what? your sisters and your dad can’t be that awful. or is your grandpa visiting, throwing holy water around at people that even come close to you again?”  
  
changmin blinks, mirth tugging at his mouth. victoria has met none of his family, and she’s only going off of vague childhood stories he told her once a few years ago. his lips twitch into an almost smile. his family literally would not be caught dead near any holy water.  
  
raising his cup of ice coffee to his mouth, changmin looks at the window, seeing none of the people passing by and ignoring how the sky continues to darken as he thinks about christmas, where his grandfather had glared at yunho right until he gave him his present to open. his grandfather had eased after that, had been genial and respectful to no end of yunho’s amusement.  
  
“no, not really, but it’s a really long story.”  
  
“we’ve got time,” victoria says, pointedly glancing at her watch. “probably need to head back to grab my stuff around nine, you place too, but we can go straight to hyunwoo’s then.”  
  
“uh,” changmin starts, remembers what his father had said to him on christmas eve and tries narrowing down the best way to explain that he is living with someone and that they are just not his significant other to his wild minded best friend. a roll of thunder shakes the cafe windows, and changmin halts, clamps down on the forming lump of nausea in his throat, closes his eyes against the ring in his head. “i—”  
  
“sounds great,” victoria grins, leaning forward.  
  
changmin opens his eyes and frowns at her. “do you remember the story i told you during our second year?”  
  
“japan?”  
  
“no. the girl.”  
  
“oh, the one that got away! i remember.”  
  
changmin resists the urge to roll his eyes; the single time he told victoria about jihye she had gushed and cooed and made jokes in the concerns of his love life, claiming that she finally knew why he didn’t get close with anyone.  
  
“whatever.” changmin huffs. “the point is that i ran into her brother that night.”  
  
“woah. small world,” victoria murmurs around her straw, not once shifting her gaze away. changmin tries not to feel pinned by the stare, the storm outside already setting him on edges he shouldn’t be on.  
  
“mhm. yunho lives in the building and by some miracle i lost my phone at the party. too late for buses and couldn’t call a cab, so. yunho offered to let me up and clean, i ended up crashing with him—”  
  
“min min min, you sly dog—” changmin snorts, “—you slept with your ex’s brother?” victoria whispers, eyes widening and face flushing with excitement.  
  
“no.” changmin says slowly, exasperated. “i slept in the guest room, not shit happened so cut it out, stop looking at me like that.”  
  
victoria gives, pouts and goes back to sipping her drink, looking put out.  
  
“he gave me a ride home after. he saw my place and… just—” changmin stops, unsure and also vaguely uncaring of his friend’s reaction.  
  
“and?”  
  
“and he offered to let me to be his roommate.” changmin lifts one shoulder in a shrug, purposely leaving out the finer details of the entire encounter. victoria doesn’t know that he had been taking out an extra loan check to keep living in his old apartment, and she doesn’t need to know now.  
  
“you live with him?”  
  
“yes. he’s not a terrible roommate—”  
  
“rent free?” victoria sputters, incredulous, brows snapped and eyes ever wider.  
  
“yes,” changmin says slowly, cautious about what victoria is getting at.  
  
“in _that_ building?” she screeches.  
  
“vic, shut up,” changmin hisses, feeling rather than seeing the eyes of everyone in the cafe turn on them. the scent of curiosity and annoyance thickens in the air, and changmin frowns harder.  
  
“changmin, you live with your ex-girlfriend’s brother for _free_ in the most expensive condo in the _entire_ city, and you didn’t think to tell me?”  
  
changmin rubs the bridge of his nose gently, eyes shutting again. “not that it’s any of your business—”  
  
“ _i’m your best friend_ —”  
  
“ _not_ that it’s any of your business, it was all just really perfect timing.” changmin presses. “and for the record, yunho’s sister was never my girlfriend. that aside, trust me when i say that i wasn’t sure how to bring this up. you’re not exactly good at handling news.”  
  
“and you’re sure you’re not sleeping with him?”  
  
changmin fixes victoria with a glare, impatient, broken blue eyes snapping to her brown one’s with a sense of finality that makes her pause.  
  
“i think i would know, victoria. yunho is just being gracious with me while i’m in school. he’s not a stranger, he’s an old friend—”  
  
“i want to meet him.” victoria declares, standing abruptly, almost upsetting their drinks. “i have to make sure he won’t do anything to take advantage of you.”  
  
that idea ranks right up there with changmin’s own prank of an idea to annoy yunho by hiding alarm clocks throughout the apartment to go off within minutes of one another in the middle in the night, an idea that had gotten him pulled out of a dead sleep and locked in the shower with cold water on blast.  
  
that idea is _awful_.  
  
“i’m not a child, vic.”  
  
“changmin if you think i won’t find a way to meet him you are mistaken. it’s either now or later, mister. your choice.”  
  
changmin wonders how long he can possibly postpone _later_ , but the look on victoria’s face is bespoken with curious determination. never do those two emotions together do any good.  
  
sucking in a breath between his teeth, changmin agrees reluctantly. he wants this over and done as soon as possible.  
  
“fine.” he says shortly. “yunho’s home now. i’m going to call him though; it’s my home too but i’m not just going to bring you over unannounced.”  
  
victoria beams. changmin ignores her pointedly, unlocking his phone. it’s not often that he calls yunho—they see eachother every day. unfortunately, yunho picks up immediately.  
  
“changminnie,” he says, serious sounding despite the ridiculous nickname. “everything alright?”  
  
stifling a groan and a shiver as the sky outside grows darker, changmin goes back to pressing his thumb between his eyes, headache easing into a full migraine. “victoria would like to meet you,” he says carefully. “i declined but you’ll find her damn determined.”  
  
“that’s fine,” yunho says it dismissively, pauses, and, quiet and concerned, “are you sure you’re alright?”  
  
changmin stares out the window, watches how the light drizzle of rain starts to tap at the glass. his head hurts. his gums ache.  
  
he closes his eyes again. “mhm.” he hums, then, warning, not sure if yunho will be upset or not about bringing a human into their house, especially an _inquisitive_ one. “we’ll be home in a few minutes.”  
  
yunho makes an affirmitive sound. changmin hangs up. “come on,” he sighs, not bothering to finish his drink. his stomach roils dangerously, and he’s not sure if he’s going to choke, vomit, or get hungry first. victoria follows him out. the storm begins in earnest, rain pelting the ground.  
  
victoria grabs his hand, and they make a dash for her car, doors slamming just as lightning cracks and the rain comes down hard. the city lights up with the flash. thunder booms.  
  
changmin grips his seatbelt.  
  
“god, it’s going to be bad.,” victoria says as she pulls out of the parking lot, quickly shifting traffic as it grows worse with the rain. the drive takes seven minutes, the elevator ride up takes two. not that changmin’s counting.  
  
“top floor?”  
  
“he’s an architect.”  
  
“woah,” victoria breathes, nodding.  
  
hesitating punching in the code for the door, changmin levels victoria a look.  
  
“oh, anything i should be worried about?”  
  
“yourself.” changmin responds tersely, snappish, serious. “yunho can be blunt. if he seems rude, trust me when i say it’s just him with people he doesn’t know that well. you should probably also not piss him off.”  
  
“and how is he with you?” victoria presses, crossing her arms.  
  
“christ, vic,” changmin grips the door handle with untamed force. he can hear the sound of rain hitting the windows inside; it beats dully in his head. the handle dents under his fingers. right now he doesn’t care. “he is my friend. that’s. it.”  
  
victoria takes the hint, but changmin makes a point to stare at her for a good six seconds, until she squirms a bit, raises her hands defensively.  
  
changmin punches the code in.  
  
“oh my,” victoria gushes as changmin lets her step in before him. the rain is louder, the storm is raging, nothing if not impressive, and changmin reigns in his fear with a tight leash, masks the scent of it with long unused power. victoria walks to the windows and stares out at the quickly descending drape of darkness, city lights flickering on one by one, blurred by the fat drops of water trickling down the glass.  
  
“this is amazing, min. you really, really live here?”  
  
“he does,” yunho intones, there in an inhuman flicker of speed, one changmin himself almost doesn’t catch. yunho’s concealment reigns firmly in place as he comes from the kitchen. victoria jumps at his abruptness, turning, mouth open and ready with a plethora of questions that die before even reaching her lips.  
  
changmin wants to bang his head against a wall, maybe take a chance at survival by jumping through the glass and into the storm.  
  
yunho is prefectly disguised as human, but it doesn’t make him any less beautiful, especially not when he’s barefoot in a pair of slacks and his white work shirt unbuttoned just enough to be rumpled, or with his darkened hair in disarray. yunho looks like he just stepped off the front page of a magazine. or bed.  
  
both, changmin muses wryly, dreadfully. he knows exactly what victoria is about to think.  
  
“victoria, this is yunho.” changmin says tiredly. “yunho, this is one of my closest friends, victoria.”  
  
“does your ex look anything like him?” victoria blurts bluntly, making changmin want to fall through every single story of the building, right to the concrete floor of the lowest level of the underground parking garage. “if she does, i totally and indefinitely understand you for clinging on to her like you do.”  
  
changmin presses his hand to his face. “jihye isn’t my ex—”  
  
“my sister and i are similar in looks,” yunho says plainly. something subtle crackles in the air, a minuscule shift in yunho’s aura, and changmin can already tell that he does not like victoria. he wouldn’t like her either if she gawked at him like she is.  
  
yunho turns to changmin, voice carefully blank. “would our guest like anything?”  
  
“i’ll get it,” changmin grapples onto that like a lifeline, makes his way to the kitchen. any space away from the fifteen square feet of icy fire that had instantly formed around yunho and victoria was definitely the better space, and safer by far, despite the open floor plan of the condo. changmin looks through the fridge meticulously, slow on purpose. he ignores the bottles of chilling wine and finally opts for one of the flavored waters. neither yunho or victoria mutter a sound as changmin pours, not even a single word when he gulps down the entire glass before refilling it, and then a second one.  
  
changmin feels caught between predator and prey, his hackles rising as he offers yunho and victoria a glass each, and for the life of him, he can’t decide who he should be more concerned about.  
  
victoria accepts one glass, eyes still glued to yunho, who regally accepts the second. changmin retreats back to the kitchen for his own, running his fingers through his damp hair in frustration, knotting them there, tugging. the edges of his hair brushes pass his jaw now. he’s going to have to trim it soon.  
  
“maybe try sitting,” changmin suggests flatly, leaning on the counter, hating the way his voice almost cracks.  
  
yunho’s voice is calm and _cold_ , more reminiscent of the yunho changmin used to know years before. seemingly oblivious, victoria seats herself one one of the couches, keeps staring as yunho takes a seat across from her.  
  
“are you and changmin sleeping together?” victoria asks forcefully.  
  
changmin’s throat closes in on itself, heat rises up his body, his gums hurt something wicked.  
  
“ _victoria song_ —”  
  
“though i hardly see how who my preferred bed partners are any of your business,” yunho rumbles, interrupting changmin with a short, graceful raise of his hand. “we are not.”  
  
“are you going to take advantage of him?” victoria shoots out.  
  
“for the love—” changmin’s glass shatters in his hands. he exhales, runs water from the sink and ignores victoria’s glance. he picks a shard of glass from his palm, watches the blood drip and the skin stitch up.  
  
the room seems to drop another ten degrees, and changmin hopes, almost prays, and pleads with the gods that it is because of the storm outside.  
  
“i don’t have any interest of taking advantage of changmin.” yunho answers, and changmin stills where he is in the kitchen, locks his legs unconsciously. that tone is _dangerous_. “or betraying the trust that he so willingly places in me.”  
  
the harsh shift in yunho is lost on victoria and all of her human senses; she is obliviously and recklessly interested, and changmin wonders if the evening will possibly end in bloodshed.  
  
changmin gets another glass, uncaring of the stray shards he steps on, fills it and downs it again, moves for a refill. yunho holds his own glass up, and changmin quietly goes over and accepts it, sends a longing glance toward the kitchen.  
  
“are you even gay?”  
  
an unnamed emotion slams into changmin. he turns to vitoria, hair falling about from his previous tugging, and brows snapped down.  
  
yunho beats him to speaking. “also none of your business.”  
  
“are you single?”  
  
“perhaps revisit my previous answer.”  
  
“want to go to a party with us?”  
  
silence echoes through the apartment, punctuated by a flash of lightning that startles changmin into movement. the usually noticeable hum of the house is gone. changmin feels his heartbeat pick up.  
  
“i would probably rather have my internal organs cut out with a dull knife,” yunho says casually, examining a hand, flicking imaginary dirt from his nails.  
  
changmin gives up any pretense of being comfortable, eases up on the right hold he had intended on holding. he swivels on his heel and strides to the kitchen, gets some distance from the inevitable fallout. if he’s lucky—and he is not—yunho will forget he is there. victoria too.  
  
he stares at the floor, waiting for it to open. “any second now,” he mutters to himself.  
  
“wow?” victoria reels, snaps. “you are such a jerk!”  
  
“i rather that than whatever else you automatically presume.” yunho says flatly, casually, comfortably leaning into the couch with a royal air.  
  
“seriously, who took a shit in your shoes today, you arrogant—”  
  
“victoria,” changmin warns, frowning, steeling her with a hard look. he’s had enough. bad, bad idea. “i knew this wouldn’t end well, and yet i still gave you the benefit of the doubt. vic, yunho is not the person you seem hellbent on making him out to be. i’ve known him for _years_ , he is closer to me than almost anyone.” he turns to yunho, meets his fake brown gaze with his unwavering blue one. “yunho, victoria is my friend, one of the few people who have stuck by me. you don’t have to like eachother, but don’t you dare do this. it’s a holiday for fucks sake.”  
  
victoria makes a face, and a feeling of dread seeps down changmin’s spine. “and you were going to stay stuck up here in the place with him? god changmin, he can’t even get a date, and you’re going to take pity on him and miss out—”  
  
the dread turns into anger, built up from over the course of the afternoon, hot and tinged with annoyance. changmin see’s slivers of ultraviolet. his leash is gone.  
  
“did you not listen to a word i’ve said _all day_? i do not like parties, vic. i do not like the idea of going down to hyunwoo’s after what happened, which you clearly don’t care about, and i sure as shit don’t care for the idea of a new years kiss or love in the next year. it doesn’t matter if yunho has a date or not, what matters is you talking about him like the way you are. what in the hell is _wrong_ with you?” changmin snaps, feels his gums split harshly as his teeth elongate. he clicks his mouth shut, the taste of his own blood strong, and venom flows from his canines, unbidden, numbing his tongue.  
  
thunder shakes the windows. anger flips into fear, pungent and raw in the air. changmin ignores the way yunho’s stare finds him and stays, takes a breath, fighting the lightheaded feeling.  
  
victoria looks at changmin with narrowed, angry eyes, mouth turned down, and stomps up to him.  
  
“you’d rather stay here by yourself than hang out with me?”  
  
changmin does his best to regulate the length of his teeth, bites out. “you said we’d hang out at the last one. funny how you ended up in a bedroom with someone between your legs.”  
  
victoria’s face flushes red, and she steps back, embarrassment washing in with her anger.  
  
“how did you—”  
  
“i came looking for you, you know, after you left me alone? i walked in right before asshole of the year tried to assault me in the bathroom. if you want to party, _fine._ but it’s not for me, alright?”  
  
“how do you know if you don’t even try it!”  
  
changmin blinks, stares, dumbfounded and irresponsibly unamused, and then he calms. he stands straight, mouth tilting up just so as he looks at his friend. “because i _did_ , victoria,” he says casually, evenly, at ease. “and i did _not_ like it.”  
  
victoria’s mouth opens, closes. she steps back again. something flashes across her face, and changmin looks without real emotion, unwavering, dauntless, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. victoria looks trapped. her lashes flutter, her face reddens more, she spins on her heel and stares at yunho, who is standing now, face impassive and eyes cold, appearing ready to pounce at the drop of a word.  
  
“you,” victoria breathes angrily, pointing. “don’t you dare ever try to take advantage of him either. changmin is amazing and deserves only the best and if you even lay a finger on him you’re dead. i know you’re helping changmin out big time, and i respect that, but i don’t like you. at all.”  
  
yunho gives a mirthless, wicked thing of a chuckle. “the feeling is mutual. tell me, though, are all of the men you associate yourself with such excellent examples of masculinity?”  
  
“excuse me?”  
  
“you jump to the conclusion that every person of the opposite sex you meet is terrible,” yunho elaborates dryly.  
  
victoria narrows her eyes. “most of them aren’t that bad, they’re just in college. i’m sure even you had a phase where you were a complete asshole. it’s just how men are.”  
  
a small, low noise comes from the back of changmin’s throat, his attempt to hide it turning the sound into a snort. yunho levels a look at him, and he shrugs.  
  
“you’re correct in the fact that changmin is amazing. he deserves to be treated well and i have no designs on him,” yunho says conversationally to victoria, then, coldy, “do know that i would appreciate it if you did not come back until you can mind your tongue and speak with some civility.”  
  
victoria bristles, mouth opening in protest, stopping when yunho’s hand raises again.  
  
“girl, we are strangers. i do not appreciate some child i do not know coming into my home and speaking to me in such a manner, nor do i care for the questions of such a personal nature. more than anything i do not appreciate you pushing changmin into doing something he clearly did not wish to do and then hurting him the way you have.”  
  
shoulders dropping, victoria seems to deflate. she turns to changmin, and he regards her with a blank, impassive stare.  
  
“i was worried—” victoria starts, gesturing to the apartment around her, then turning to yunho. “even you have to admit it’s suspicious, right?”  
  
“it would be understandable, if changmin was not a fully capable adult.” yunho states firmly. “he’s your friend, is he not? if he says he is comfortable you should _trust_ him. not go out of your way to _make_ him uncomfortable.”  
  
“changmin,” victoria’s tone leans on a whine. she stops, sighs, shakes her head. “i’ll see you at school, min.”  
  
“no,” changmin says plainly, uncaring at how victoria flinches, how sadness sharpens her usually enjoyable scent. “probably not.”  
  
the apartment fills with the sound of relentless rain as victoria walks out of the door, closing it gently behind her with a click.  
  
one beat, two, changmin sinks to the couch, curls in on himself and presses his hands to his face. “that went well,” he mutters quietly.  
  
“your friend is rude.”  
  
“i don’t think she’s my friend right now.” changmin moves his hands to his hair, tugging again. he stares out the windows blankly. “you’d think i’d be more jaded with how long i’ve been alive, right? i’m sorry, yunho. i didn’t think it would turn out this bad.”  
  
lightning cracks, thunder rolls.  
  
changmin chokes down a terrified sound, fingers pulling at his hair, eyes shutting. he ignores the feel of yunho’s gaze on him, counts to ten, sighs.  
  
“i’m going to go change,” changmin says. it’s almost a whisper, quiet under the rain.  
  
yunho’s stare is hard, seizing, _compelling._ changmin avoids it, and yunho says nothing as changmin makes for the stairs, movements heightened with a touch of demonic speed at another roll of thunder.  
  
changmin shuts his door behind him and sags against it, forcing down the irrational fear of the storm and the surge of guilt from bringing victoria into their home. he had given into her demands, and he shouldn’t have. yunho is different, with pack. with him. but not with other people. the tolerance yunho graciously extends to changmin’s own family is for _changmin_ , and will not extend towards his friends. he should have known that victoria would have grated against yunho’s temper. he should have said no.  
  
changmin breathes through his mouth as the storm outside intensifies, distracts himself with a long, mental discussion about house rules and changes out of his jeans and sweater into gym shorts and a tshirt. he stands before his door and counts to ten again, checks himself and reigns in, leash tight, and finally steps out of his room. he makes his way downstairs carefully, tuning out the sound of the storm, focusing on the shallow thump of his heart, the thrum of the house.  
  
yunho’s bracelet is off, and he is watching the storm outside with a neutral expression, almost surprisingly calm, though changmin supposes it’s natural. yunho is centuries old; he holds more control over himself than even some of the elders changmin has met. calm and cool is yunho’s default personality, though he doesn’t use it with changmin anymore.  
  
changmin opens his mouth, “i’m sorry—”  
  
“it’s not your fault. from an odd angle, i can see why she would be concerned. it was her questioning. her scent.” yunho sighs, relaxing a little, amber eyes darkening.  
  
“her scent?” changmin questions. he hadn’t been paying that much attention, only after he’d snapped did he let his senses come into their natural focus.  
  
“she was interested.”  
  
“i figure you get that pretty often,” changmin laughs wryly. yunho glances at him, eyebrows arching, mouth tilting up at the corner by a fraction.  
  
“mmn,” he says, turning back to the window. “it was the combination of it. i could smell her before she even entered the building. her concern turned false the moment she saw me, changmin. i don’t take lightly to deception.”  
  
“i suppose it doesn’t matter,” changmin exhales, swinging his hands as another distraction, refusing to jump as lightning lights up the city below. “she won’t be coming back.”  
  
“wonderful,” yunho says, eyes still cast to the storm. “do you actually wish to go out tonight?”  
  
“the party is at hyunwoo’s,” changmin points out firmly. “i didn’t want to before and i definitely don’t want to now.”  
  
“want to help me cook dinner?”  
  
“i thought you were going out?”  
  
“i make a point to avoid holidays that usually involve fireworks.”  
  
changmin laughs, feeling lighter. “dinner it is, then.”  
  
“are the boys at your school really—”  
  
for a moment changmin thinks about the idiot who couldn’t take no for an answer without having to have his arms broken. “yunho,” he says, mildly amused. “do i look like i know, or care, for that matter,”  
  
turning to look at changmin fully, yunho’s eyes flicker with the lightning outside. he takes in changmin, his dark broken blue eyes, his messy hair, the way his wifebeater settles across his collar bones, the smooth hard lines of his frame, and says, low, lids easing towards half mast,  
  
“you look like you could have who you want, do what you want, and get away with it.”  
  
changmin’s brows raise in the same second his heart skips. something he doesn’t want to acknowledge ricochets through him, pulses in his veins intently. his gums hurt for a different reason. ultraviolet turns into something deep and swirling. his mouth parts. yunho follows the movement.  
  
changmin says nothing. can’t.  
  
a beat. yunho chuckles that mirthless, wicked chuckle. it _simmers_ through changmin. “has becoming part of the pack isolated you from others?”  
  
changmin focuses on the undertone of concern in yunho’s swarthy voice, grips it, breathes.  
  
“if anything being pack again has kept me from being alone. i’m trying to tackle in as many credits as i can, so not much time for socializing.” he says quietly, quieter still. “being here helps more than you know. you don’t have to worry about it.”  
  
“your friend seemed to think otherwise.”  
  
“victoria was just reacting to you and your wonderfully descriptive way of rejecting her. she doesn’t get rejected often. she’s gorgeous and the president of like four school clubs, and hasn’t been out of a relationship for more than four days. i don’t think anyone has told her no so… forcefully,”  
  
“human boys have strange tastes,” yunho intones, gone from the window in one second, opening the refrigerator in another.  
  
“show off,” changmin mumbles, walking over as yunho peers inside, pulls out two wrapped stakes. changmin almost grins at the way yunho says the word ‘strange’ and knows that he is not exactly being… nice. changmin also knows it’s not an apology by a long shot.  
  
“humans like what they like.” changmin says, ignoring the lack of remorse in his own tone. “victoria is generally the kind of girl that boys generally like.”  
  
yunho mutters something, and changmin cocks his head, hair swaying.  
  
“say again?”  
  
“i question their taste,” yunho says. “and sense.”  
  
changmin has the distinct feeling that yunho is not being nice again, and knows for a fact that is not what he said. changmin turns the water in the sink on, grabs the hose.  
  
“not highly recommended,” yunho says, still turned to the fridge.  
  
“tell me what you said, then.”  
  
“i question human taste—”  
  
changmin presses down on the trigger. a burst of water hits the back of yunho’s shirt. it sticks to every line of muscle, shows the cut of his tattoo like birthmarks, wet and clinging and see through. changmin exhales out of his mouth. yunho turns to him, more than mildly annoyed.  
  
“the truth, yunho.”  
  
“and sense.”  
  
a second burst of water, and yunho is stepping towards changmin like he’s on the hunt. changmin presses the trigger down, and watches how the front of his shirt soaks through, sticks, and leaves little to the imagination.  
  
yunho’s mouth twitches.  
  
“have it your way.”  
  
yunho doesn’t haul changmin over his shoulder again, to changmin’s surprise. instead he reaches around him, dangerously close and exuding warmth, stare locked on changmin’s, and reaches under the sink.  
  
changmin clings to the hose.  
  
yunho lifts up a water gun, one that would have been monstrous if the color had been anything but neon green.  
  
changmin presses down on the trigger, cursing at himself, because he definitely didn’t mean to, because “no, absolutely not—”  
  
changmin yelps, gets soaked from scalp to toe, hair clinging about his jaw and water dripping to the floor. “happy now?” he asks, almost petulant at his obvious loss.  
  
“quite. not only have i made my point, but this is the first reasonable suggestion my little sister has ever made.”  
  
“this was _jihye’s_ idea?”  
  
“and gift,” yunho smiles, and it’s a little breathtaking.  
  
“gonna strangle her,” changmin mutters, a little blind, walking from the kitchen and into the living room, collapsing on a couch.  
  
“aren’t you going to change?” yunho asks, amused.  
  
“i just changed. bite me.”  
  
“careful, changminnie. it’s a demon you speak to.”  
  
“a dog demon. so, what, you chase tires, too?”  
  
“fair point.” yunho laughs, storing the water gun back under the sink. changmin makes a mental note to destroy it later, or at least hide it to never be found again. like in the trash can. or out the window. he looks up as yunho comes over, squishy noises and all, and sits down next to him. changmin feels water spreading further over the fabric of the seat.  
  
“i’m not cleaning the couch.”  
  
“you sat down first.”  
  
changmin narrows his eyes and changes the subject. “takeout would be amazing right about now.”  
  
“takeout it is,” yunho says easily.  
  
“and beer. it’s been a while since i’ve had beer.”  
  
yunho tugs his cellphone from his pocket and checks it, tsking when it doesn’t even light up.  
  
“maybe we should get the really sleek indestructible ones,” changmin laughs quietly. “the kind you can put through the washing machine and they still come out alive.”  
  
“not sure they make nokia’s anymore, but perhaps.” yunho mutters, amusement light in his voice as he walks back to the kitchen and retrieves the cordless. changmin watches him dial, senses turned inward and every thing muted down. he listens to the lull of yunho’s voice as he orders, the sound of his steps as he comes back and sits back down next to him, the motion punctuated by a strike of lightning and a roll of thunder that has changmin jumping, heart hammeringing, lungs burning.  
  
yunho watches him, lips thinned, brows snapped down. he looks as if he’s about to _ask._  
  
“am i weird?” changmin questions, rushed, not wanting to talk about it, the ridiculous, out of water fear; he’s vampiric for gods sake, he doesn’t have irrational fears.  
  
yunho allows it, sitting straighter still, gaze not once moving elsewhere.  
  
“in what sense?”  
  
“victoria makes dating and parties seem so normal. normal is something i strive for, but it’s just not… every time i mention being too busy with my studies victoria gives me this insanely sad look. and this new years thing. i swear to you she looked as if i lost my mind.”  
  
“new years thing,” yunho half asks, still quiet. still watching.  
  
“some teenage stupidity that has apparently carried into her adulthood.”  
  
“you mean the new years kiss you told her you did not want,” yunho clarifies, head tilting back in recognition.  
  
“not just that, but the meaning behind it, _luck in love in the next year_. i don’t need it, though there is a part of me that wonders if i make myself the odd one out for thinking that way. i don’t need it,” changmin repeats.  
  
“then the question becomes a matter of do you want it, not if you need it, or think yourself weird.”  
  
the light in the kitchen flickers, one, twice, and the power goes out with a quiet clicking sound.  
  
“if that’s not a sign, i don’t know what is,” changmin mutters, standing, eyes immediately adjusting. “i’ll go find candles.”  
  
they don’t need candles. changmin escapes anyway, suddenly feeling foolish, despite how a part of him still wonders even after decades of life and multiple flings. his answers to the questions of actually dating and actual love are always the same: no time, no need, no thanks. his business comes first always, and his degree comes first right now. yet in all of the time, he hasn’t once thought about wanting it. he hasn’t _wanted_ for something in decades, and even though his studies are fulfilling and his pack probably the best support system, there are parts of him, old, unused, and untouched, that are beginning to ache, telling him that he _does_ want it, is at the very least romanticizing it, to which he knows better.  
  
perhaps, maybe giving into that romanticized vision is what has victoria going through relationships the way she does, one after the other, always excited about newness after growing bored with the last. it seems dangerous at best, futile and ultimately self destructive at worse.  
  
changmin thinks of the way yunho set him on fire from the inside. his throat dries. he swallows fruitlessly. his stupid gums ache.  
  
he exhales, lifting the jut of his palm to his teeth and nicking it, letting the nearly nonexistent pain ground him.  
  
“better off with the degrees,” he mutters, finally upon the candles. he lets the cut knit, and then gathers a few thick candles with their bases in a stray towel. he carries the bundle down the stairs, sees yunho sitting on the couch still, staring out at the storm.  
  
“i smelled blood.” yunho rumbles.  
  
“just a cut,” changmin dismisses. he sets the candles up, and then looks to yunho, who’s turned to him. “so, alpha. how’s your magic?”  
  
yunho says nothing, but the moment changmin steps back the candles light, burning blue before settling into the usual colored glow, casting flickering shadows across the room, the tables, the couches. changmin looks at yunho, in all of his ethereal, unconcealed beauty, and is reminded of what yunho really is as the shadows dance across his face. terrifying. a killer without mercy and a bloodlust like no other. the swirls of yunho’s birthmarks are visible, glimpsed via his undone buttons and dulled through the still wet parts of his shirt. they cut sharp, swirl down, further still to where changmin can’t see.  
  
changmin forces his heart to stay slow.  
  
“you are not strange.” yunho tells him sagely, serious just under the surface of his tone. “you see clearer than most, human and inhuman.”  
  
“vague,” changmin mutters, settling unceremoniously onto the couch next to yunho. yunho laughs quietly, nodding in acknowledgement, and doesn’t offer to elaborate.  
  
“perhaps it’s for the best,” changmin sighs quietly. “victoria believes in the fairy tale scenario but i’m the stuff of fairy tales. the idea of sweeping someone off of their feet, doing the little and big things, making them feel like the most important person in the world is her dream, and no one is perfect. they’ll leave the drawers open, or constantly misplace important things, maybe let their laundry go until there isn’t a clean thing left.” changmin scoffs, lets his eyes close as he sags deeper into the couch. “perhaps there is a bit of that in me, but to give in would mean trouble.”  
  
a low, calming growl sounds from yunho’s chest. “you’ve proven my explanation.”  
  
“how so?”  
  
“you recognize your weakness and proceed to deal with it, albeit in your own, oddly unhealthy way.”  
  
changmin’s eyes narrow, but yunho isn’t looking at him; his golden gaze is zeroed in on the front door as if waiting, and then he stands, four seconds, two before there is a knock on the door.  
  
yunho’s wallet is as sopping wet as the delivery boy, and changmin can hear the kid’s heartbeat, fast and hard, and he guesses that the boy’s taken the stairs since the power is out.  
  
“from the containers,” changmin demands as yunho comes back, bringing the warm smell of food with him. “beer?”  
  
“soon.”  
  
“does this mean we wait?”  
  
“it’s your choice.”  
  
changmin decides they wait, and for a moment there is a quiet accompanied by the rain against the windows. it doesn’t last, and yunho’s voice washes over him, smooth and low,  
  
“the cicadas sing, in the twilight of my mountain village,”  
  
“tonight, no one will visit, save the wind,” changmin finishes the poem with ease. “i’ve never pegged you for a hopeless romantic,” he laughs quietly.  
  
“when my desire grows too fierce i wear my bed clothes inside out, dark as the night’s rough husk,” yunho recites, slow and deep, then, “i am more romantic than hopeless,” he says, mirth dancing in the darkened gold of his gaze. “not that you would know anything about that.”  
  
the air between them gains a pressuring density. those words sound too much like an invitation, and changmin’s throat closes. “i wouldn’t.”  
  
“a shame.”  
  
fireworks go off in the distance, colorful and high despite the rain.  
  
“i think it’s new years,” changmin says, trying to distract himself, voice small, body rung with a winding tension. suddenly the space between him and yunho doesn’t seem so far, and when yunho’s fingers curl under his chin to turn, to tilt just so, he almost wishes he were across the table, anywhere but in the electrifying space of yunho’s presence and the warmth of his touch.  
  
“it is,” yunho says, kisses him chaste and sweet, firm. his fingers trail up his jaw to tangle in is hair, and changmin’s breath catches, a warm tingle flutters down his spine, a small sound gathers at the back of his throat, his body shudders, and he _wants_.  
  
the power flicks back on, bright, intrusive. there is a knock at their door. the beer is here. yunho licks changmin’s bottom lip, once, and then rises, leaving changmin to stare after him with hazy, broken blue eyes.  
  
yunho smiles an almost smile.  
  
“i wish you luck in love in the next year.”


End file.
